The Sunny Side of You & Me
by stephtron312
Summary: Her body slammed into something sturdy but soft. Smoke and gasoline filled her nose as she pulled away from the figure. She barely looked at him, not even registering his grunt as she tried to propel herself off him in a hurried fluster to continue down the hall to homeroom. A wild High School AU Caryl fic based on every John Hughes movie you've ever loved.
1. Chapter 1

_So one day I went on a 80's movie kick, and I as I made it through my third John Hughes film I thought Caryl deserved a 80's high school movie of their own! I hope you're ready for some fluffy corniness and teen angst!_

_**Huge huge gigantic thank you to my beta sweettooth7 for whom without this story would be a whole lot of nothing! Like the Bender to my Claire, the Wats to my Keith, the Samantha to my Jake Ryan, she was just what this story needed! Also she gets full credit for that summary because I can't write those to save my life and she's apparently fantastic at them :D**_

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If there was one sure way to tick her off, it was being late.

As of this moment, the bus was three minutes passed due. Carol tapped her flowered Keds against the sidewalk, subconsciously mimicking the rhythm that boomed out from her Walkman, her tongue sucking anxiously against her teeth. There was a simple solution, she knew, to this late bus problem. If she had her own car she wouldn't have to rely on the unreliability of public transportation. Or at the very least, Michonne could get a car, and then she could hitch a ride with her to school. If Michonne ever got her license she would drive the coolest car, probably some vintage Volkswagen that she'd paint herself in a cascade of colors and shapes. But, as it were, Michonne had taken her driver's test four times and failed. Carol thought of her own license, dumped carelessly into the bottom of her knapsack. She didn't have much use for it if she didn't have a car.

All it symbolized was that she was seventeen, and her curled hair took up most of the frame in the picture. It said that she lived at the edge of town just before the train tracks that rattled every night at 7:13 when the freight rolled through. It said she was a Libra. What the little plastic square _didn't_ mention was that she couldn't get that car she had been saving up for after her father lost his job eight months ago. No word of how all the money went into the mortgage, and any bills left over. Her father was barely keeping them afloat, working extra shifts at Jergen's Hardware and rarely making it home for dinner. Really, it offered nothing of value and that's why it sat underneath her Physics book, slightly bent and forgotten.

The screech of the brakes came at four and a half minutes after the scheduled time. Carol breathed a relieved sigh, her ponytail bouncing high on her head as she hopped anxiously from one foot to the other, the blue scrunchie threatening to burst from the pure volume of those curls. She was up on the first step before the driver could even pull the lever all the way to open the accordion door. She sat in her usual spot right beside the back exit door. With a shaking jolt the bus took off, heading towards Wiltshire High School on the other side of town.

Michonne lived off of Main Street, about halfway between Carol's stop and school. Her combat boots clomped against the metal floor of the bus announcing her arrival before she made an appearance. Her dreadlocks whipped around, a bright colored scarf wrapped artfully around the crown of her head. She wore a jean jacket, a darker shade than Carol's, and filled with patches and buttons from artists and bands that Carol pretended to have heard of. Carol patted the empty mud brown vinyl seat beside her, giving her best friend a smile. She sat, popping a bright colored candy into her mouth and offering another one out to Carol.

Their friendship had formed over the benches in gym class where they both made up excuses to sit out. Volleyball was never really Carol's best sport, and Michonne could care less about the school wide competition. Claiming cramps and headaches, week after week, they found themselves making mock commentary of some of the more enthusiastic students in their class.

"Bus was four minutes late, huh?" she smirked, the round candy muffling her voice.

"Four and a half," Carol rolled her eyes, her voice just as garbled.

They could hear the bell ringing from where the bus dropped them off a half block away. Carol ran at full speed while Michonne leisurely strolled rolling another candy around with her tongue. She could barely suppress a smile as she watched Carol's jaunty form—she was always so cute when she was frenzied.

She took the stone steps outside the main entrance two at a time, the toe of her sneaker catching on the top step almost causing her to fall. Regaining her balance she skid across the tiled floors, red-faced and blotchy.

Her body slammed into something sturdy but soft. Smoke and gasoline filled her nose as she pulled away from the figure. She barely looked at him, not even registering his grunt as she tried to propel herself off him in a hurried fluster to continue down the hall to homeroom.

"Watch it!" the rough grumble followed her as she finally slipped into the classroom.

Three hours later Carol groaned, her face falling into her open palms as she sat across the cafeteria table from Michonne.

"Are you sure?" she asked, spreading her fingers just enough for her blue eyes to peek out from between them.

"Oh I'm positive," Michonne chuckled, crushing her emptied carton of milk into the plastic tray.

"It was definitely Daryl Dixon?"

"Definitely. Do you feel itchy? 'Cause I heard he's got fleas," her teasing smile flooded her dark eyes as she watched Carol's face color three deeper shades of red.

"Be _nice_," Carol reprimanded, drawing her hands away. She bit her lip, looking anxiously around the crowded lunchroom but not spotting any sign of the elusive boy in question.

"Did he look pissed?" she asked, her voice pitching nervously.

Michonne shrugged, "When does he _not_? I don't know what you're so worried about, I already told you he cut. He walked out right after you rammed into him."

Daryl Dixon was an enigma, but not one that she had the time or desire to unknot. He was quiet, reserved, and always sporting a leather vest with angel wings that many said made him a part of an out of town biker gang. That may just be a rumor, but it was true that his older brother just got out of his first stint in county. Merle Dixon, who was just barely twenty-one, had been supposedly clean for three years after his last round of juvie but robbed a liquor store seven months ago that landed him in the big house. Most people just figured Daryl was headed down the same path and when he'd go missing from school for days at a time it was always said that he had been carted off to the boys detention hall a few towns over.

Even though Carol had never seen Daryl Dixon beat anyone up, there was still a curling fear in her gut that he would seek vengeance for her blunder. She rested her head against the table with a _thump_, whispering incoherently to herself, as the feeling of Michonne patting her now loose and wild hair attempted to comfort her. A quiet throat clearing shook her, and Carol looked up from her despairing pose.

Lori Sanders, tall and graceful in her light sundress and sweater, stood at the end of their table smiling sweetly. She held a flyer out to them, letting it land with a balletic sway between their lunch trays. Carol moved the curls away from her face in a desperate fling, angling her head to better see the bright paper. Bold colored bubble words surrounded by drawings of a tree and little golden leaves advertised next week's dance, the Fall Fling.

"Hope you guys can make it," Lori said, her smile still plastered on her sharp face, "Student Council will start selling tickets next Monday." There was a slight bounce to her as she swished away to the next table. Her boyfriend, police academy hopeful, Rick Grimes lingered behind her. His eyes seemed to flit to Michonne for a fraction of a second too long before he followed after Lori. Michonne smirked at the way he shifted his gaze all around the room just to shake off the eye contact he had let linger, before sliding her eyes back to Carol.

"You want to go to this?" she poked at the flyer.

"Are you still making eye-sex with Rick Grimes?" Carol pursed her lips.

Michonne rolled her eyes, sliding the flyer more directly under Carol's gaze, "Do you or do you not want to go?"

Carol shrugged, "I can already tell you what's going to happen. Lori and Rick will dance uncomfortably while Shane Walsh stalks by the punch bowl growling like a bulldog; Phillip Blake will get on his soap box and start complaining about how if we elected him as Class President the dance would be _so_ much better. Mr. Greene will try to get in between couples that are "too" close. And then Andrea Harrison will make eyes at Mr. Horvath for half the night as he tries to dictate the rules and regulations to her."

Michonne frowned, "I like Andrea."

"Me too, but you know it's true."

"So you don't want to go?" Michonne asked, her eyes lingering on the paper for a second too long.

Carol sighed, "Of course we're going! Wouldn't want to miss all that would we? Besides I heard they're getting the good cheese platter this time."

Michonne smiled, giving her shoulders a small shake of glee. She snatched up the flyer and folded it into her side bag. "Don't worry about the ticket, Carol. It'll be your birthday present!"

Carol waved her off, "No, 'Chonne, I got it. I'm babysitting this week anyway so I'll have the cash. And, besides, I already told you what I wanted for my birthday."

Michonne cocked her head to the side.

"A plate of soggy, salty fries and a whole night of Rob Lowe movies!" Carol smiled, her eyes widening as if it was the most obvious request. Snorting, Michonne shook her head as the bell rang and they hurried off to separate classes.

On days where the evening air was cool, and the sun made its descent lazily, Carol liked to walk the last few blocks home. It was cozy enough and sometimes she'd stop in at Jacqui's Kitchenette for a candy bar if she had the extra dollar.

"You get to where you were rushing off to?" the practically incoherent drawl grumbled from the hollow between Jacqui's and the neighboring music store. Carol recoiled from the unexpected voice, moving backwards towards the music store's door. Daryl peeled himself from the shadow, taking a step towards her and flicking a still burning cigarette butt to the side. "You always in such a hurry?!" he pried as she spun quickly and slipped through the door.

The bells plinked above her as the door closed and she moved swiftly through the rows of cassette's and vinyl records.

"Something going on out there?" Tyreese, the manager of Smooth Tunes, waved his hand in front of Carol's blank expression as she stared at the door.

"Huh?" she looked back at him, blinking. Tyreese had the kindest face she could think of, his smile always reaching his deep brown eyes. He wore a beanie cap and a chord necklace that bounced happily as he danced to the various music that he blasted in the store, and his voice as smooth and calming as the jazz he played. Carol and Michonne made it a habit to visit the shop every third Sunday of the month when they had their fifty cent sale.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," Tyreese tilted his chin against his fist as he leaned over a rack of cassettes, grinning at her. He was somewhere in his early thirties, and Carol often found herself blushing around him. It was a silly crush but if he ever caught on (which he already had) she would melt into the floor and wish to become one with the maroon carpet.

"I…might have," she sighed, searching again for a silhouette at the door but it seemed that Daryl had disappeared.

"I was just about to close up shop in fifteen minutes, you need a ride home?"

"No," Carol said slowly, allowing a huff of air to pass through her lips and decompress her. "But thanks anyway, Ty," she turned back to him, smiling.

"You know if it's a boy ghost giving you trouble, you can bring him on in. I'll straighten him out," Tyreese stood back from the rack, swinging a hammer in his hand, and Carol gladly took in how sturdy and strong he was. She smiled at him, heading just as quickly out the door as she entered.

She twisted her head in both directions but didn't see Daryl in sight. The sun was hanging at its lowest point, barely winking between the buildings of the street. Carol hurried, her feet stepping in quick succession down the sidewalk.

Carol made it down the block without a hitch, her sneakers squeaking by the various buildings as they readied themselves for the night crowd. The glaring fluorescent glow from the corner gas station illuminated the darkening street with an electrical buzz. Carol took a deep breath in before making her way to cut through the station and take the back of the next side street to get to her house faster. Most of the attendants and the one customer ignored her. The unmistakable sucking sound of a low whistle reached her ear but she pressed forward, refusing to turn towards the taunt.

"Aw, come on little mouse. Don't walk away so fast!" the scratchy voice chuckled, the laughter rumbling louder as she quickened her pace. When Carol reached the edge of the station she looked back for just a second. Merle Dixon, his overalls greased from car oil, and his face half hidden behind a beer bottle as he puckered his lips at her and blew a kiss. A few others turned to look at her, shaking their heads or laughing along with him.

"Cut it out, Merle," Daryl's voice snarled next to him as he glared at his brother.

"You gotta learn the ways of chasing tail, little brother. It's like I ain't taught you nothing!" the grating rasp of his laugh was like a slow knife scraping down her spine.

"Just leave her be," Daryl was quiet, almost gentle as he moved in front of his brother to draw his attention away from her. He turned his head slightly.

She caught Daryl's eye as he glanced at her and Carol gasped, moving quickly out of the station's glow. The Dixons were like steel, poking through her, but there was something about those piercing blue eyes that she couldn't shake off. She could still see them, like two dark and cold stars, when she climbed into bed, closing her eyes to the night. Rolling over to her stomach, she shoved her head beneath a pillow, hoping that any and all thoughts about Daryl Dixon would be gone by morning.


	2. Chapter 2

_Thank you so much for all the great reviews and follows guys! Hope you like this next chapter :D_

_Also I forgot to do this the first time around but...**Disclaimer: I own nothing but my ridiculous love for the 80's teen angst**_

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Michonne pushed a great gulping puff of air out of her cheeks with a dramatic sigh as she let her back fall against the locker next to Carol's. She looked at her, arching her brows in question as she switched her English binder for her Physics one.

"Bad day already? It's only second period!" Carol teased, her lips pursing when Michonne shot her a glaring look.

"Mr. Greene wants me to stay after school and help tutor his daughter. She's in like the third grade, I don't know why _I_ have to give up my time to help her with stuff that I haven't done in five zillion years. Can we ditch and run home instead? You can come over and we can 'study' the new Prince album I got?" she pleaded.

"That _does_ suck. Sorry 'Chonne," Carol put her hand on Michonne's shoulder and she let out a pathetic whimper. "But I can't anyway. It's Tuesday and I've got my neighbor's kid right after school."

Michonne groaned, rolling her head against the locker as she pawed at her eyes with her leather gloved palms. When she opened them again, Michonne had to blink a few times to be sure she hadn't accidentally blinded herself as she looked past Carol to the blurred figure that was approaching.

She whistled, bumping Carol's shoulder with the back of her wrist. Twisting her head towards the hulking form that was zeroing in on them, Carol's eyes widened. She tried to shut her locker, ready to make her escape but her hand slipped and she almost smacked into the metal door face first. Her Trapper Keeper fumbled out of her hands, sprawling across the floor with an angry clatter. Dipping down quickly to pick up the scattered papers, two tattered boots stood at her fingertips. Gulping, she gathered the last paper and stood with as much poise as she could muster. Out of his line of sight, Michonne stood beside him, mouthing a shocked expression to Carol.

"I need to talk to you for a minute," Daryl grumbled.

Carol darted her eyes between Daryl and Michonne, the latter's widening as she motioned for Carol to say something.

"I-I..uh..well..I..." she stammered incoherently, the words not quite forming as she tried to understand what exactly was happening to her in this alternate dimension she no doubt had fallen into. Michonne slapped her forehead soundlessly, though Daryl was oblivious as he kept his gaze locked on Carol, observing her like a lab rat. His eyes were a ridiculous shade of blue, hazy like a storm covered ocean as he squinted at her.

"Look," he said gruffly, straightening over her with his eyes narrowed, "What happened last night…you shouldn't have been hanging around there."

If Michonne's eyes could grow any bigger they would have popped out of her head and rolled around on the tiled floor. Carol grimaced at the shock on her friend's face, trying to signal through a series of slight eyebrow movements that she'd talk to Michonne later. Picking up on this, Daryl twisted suddenly towards Michonne. She looked up at him sheepishly, offering a smile.

"Surprised you're still here, Dixon. You know considering that it's well passed homeroom," she took him in with a steady glare.

He growled, turning back to Carol expectantly.

"Thanks for your concern, but I don't need it," she said curtly, surprising herself with the level of severity that had seeped into her voice. She slammed her locker shut, moving away from him without a second look. A string of curses and rushed prayers paraded silently through her head as she turned the corner into the science hall. Loud, banging footsteps followed after her fervently. Her chest tightened and Carol broke into a light jog, the bottoms of her Keds squeaking a brusque cadence as she whirled passed other students until she reached the Physics room door. Hurrying she sat down next to Andrea, her books landing on the table with a thud. The shoulder pads of Andrea's light salmon blazer lifted up in surprise.

"Everything alright, Carol?" the blonde asked, flowing over her with a quizzical look. Andrea's blunt bangs framed her kind eyes with perfectly teased tendrils, her expression softening as she took in Carol's wearied state.

"Oh yeah, I'm super!" she said, a smile forcing its way through her gritted teeth until her face fell as Daryl entered the classroom.

Boring into her with an incredible intensity, Daryl made his way through the rows of lab tables.

"Mr. Dixon!" the teacher, Ms. Espinoza, called. He stalled one table away from where Carol sat, looking up to the front of the room with a muted groan. "Are you even in this class?" Ms. Espinoza scrutinized the attendance sheet, flipping it over several times as if some new information would appear on it.

Carol prayed silently that he wasn't and she'd make him leave the room, which had suddenly become stifling and she squirmed under the discomfort. She and Michonne took a lot of pains to reach the social stature of being noticeable while sticking as close to the background as possible, and having Daryl Dixon follow her around trying to make conversation was the exact kind of attention she avoided.

"I'll have to call down to the main office after class," Ms. Espinoza finally said after an agonizing few seconds, "Oh well, take a seat. Right behind Miss Peletier will be fine."

Snarling, he made sure the chair scraped across the floor, and her nerves, before he fell into it. She could feel his eyes burning holes in the back of her skull and she buried her head into her arms against the table, her hair spreading around her like a privacy curtain.

Rick Grimes and Shane Walsh chose that moment to saunter through the Physics door. Laughing at some joke shared between them that could only pass as humor to teenaged boys, Shane almost sat on Daryl's lap when they reached their usual lab table.

"This is my seat," he said, glaring down at Daryl who barely gave him a second glance. "What the hell man?" Shane started, his hand rubbing his forehead, not used to being defied in such a way, as his eyes darted to Rick who just shrugged as he settled into his seat besides Daryl.

"Mr. Walsh, we're having a bit of a seating change today. You can work with Mr. Mamet for the time being," Ms. Espinoza settled him with an unquestionable look and Shane muttered as he noisily made his way to the front table to sit next to the bespectacled boy.

"Okay," Ms. Espinoza cleared her throat so the class would settle, "There's a lab sheet on your desk and an apparatus on every other table. In groups of four, so yes you're teaming up with other lab partners—_stop groaning!_—you're going to work through the sheet. Put the completed sheets on my desk at the end of the period."

Carol stood, looking around quickly to make eye contact with a group who needed an apparatus, as Andrea and her had one on their desk. She tried to silently urge Lori or T-Dog—_anyone—_to come over to their table. Andrea made a small noise, her gold bangles clinking against each other as she tapped Carol on the shoulder. She turned to look as Daryl and Rick stood in front of them. Rick was rubbing his upper arm, giving Daryl a pained look.

She huffed, grabbing up the lab assignment and perusing it. They all read the paper in silence, except for Daryl who continued to keep Carol in his unwavering glare. Trying as hard as she could to ignore him, she began to assemble the apparatus, making small comments to Andrea and Rick as they worked quietly. They had completed the first question, and Daryl still made no moves to help or so much as take his eyes off her. Her stomach twisted anxiously until she was bursting. Squishing the paper onto the table angrily, she met his glare with one of her own, "_What?!_"

Daryl scoffed, "You really giving me shit right now? Because I tried to apologize to you."

"Ha!" Carol gasped, "That was some apology. Boy, I'd hate to see what you'd say about something you were _actually_ sorry for!"

"What the hell are you talking about?" he leaned forward, eyes narrowing dangerously. Andrea and Rick took a small step back, no longer paying attention to the lab.

"I only want to hear conversations about Physics!" Ms. Espinoza said to the class, but her eyes were pinned on Carol's table. She gulped, giving the teacher a weak smile.

Turning back to the lab, Carol grabbed up the paper again.

"Uh…" Andrea began, looking between the frazzled girl and the angry boy, "I think the answer to number two is—"

"You weren't apologizing, you were _blaming_ me," Carol interrupted, her voice tight and low as she couldn't hold back if he was going to be pig-headed.

"Well if you weren't there he wouldn't have said nothin'," he growled, barely managing to keep his voice to a dull roar.

"Ex-_cuse_ me for walking through _public_ property to get to _my_ house. Maybe if your brother wasn't such a _jerk_—"

"Public property my ass, you could have gone another way."

"I shouldn't _have_ to!"

Andrea and Rick's heads whipped back and forth like they were watching a volatile ping pong match. Daryl grumbled, his hand sweeping across his face bitterly. Carol leaned back slightly, a satisfied smirk settling across her face as she wrote on her lab report.

"Is there a problem here?" Ms. Espinoza asked, her hands gripping the black counter. All four students shook their heads adamantly and she smiled, peaking at Rick's lab report. "Number two is wrong," she pointed before turning to reprimand Shane for throwing a Popsicle stick at Lori.

They worked at number two again, resetting the apparatus multiple times as Daryl chewed absently on his thumb.

"I am though," he said quietly after a few minutes.

"Am what?" she looked up from her paper, ignoring the excruciatingly obvious glance Andrea and Rick exchanged.

"Sorry," he mumbled from behind his thumb.

Carol smiled, her lips barely upturning as her chest puffed outwards, proudly knowing she had won this round. "Apology accepted," she said softly, her eyes lingering on him before she turned back to the lab. She helped Andrea set up the next calculation as Daryl turned his back to them, leaning casually against the table.

"So, Carol…did Michonne come to school today? I didn't see her in homeroom." Rick said as he repositioned the apparatus, the hostility of their group finally lulling. When he looked up the three of them were staring at him. Carol was slightly aghast, quickly explaining that she had been talking to Mr. Greene, while Andrea tried hard to keep her expression neutral.

Daryl slowly shook his head at him, "Smooth man, real fuckin' smooth." He pushed off from the table, strolling towards the class door and leaving Rick in a confused ruffle.

"Mr. Dixon? Where are you off to?" Ms. Espinoza called out just as he reached the door handle.

Turning the knob slowly, a sly smile tugging across his face, "You know Ms. Espinoza, I don't think I'm in this class after all." His eyes flicked knowingly towards Carol, and she could feel her cheeks burning with an undeniable blush that she had no idea as to where it was coming from. She didn't blush over anyone, most certainly not Daryl Dixon.

Carol cleared her throat as she turned back to the lab, escaping a pointed look from Ms. Espinoza. She peeked over the edge of the paper for just a moment, searching out the small window in the door, and could see those unmistakable angel wings retreating down the hall.


	3. Chapter 3

_Thank you guys so so so much for all the wonderful support and love you've been showing this fic :D It means the world to me! Hope you enjoy this chapter, thanks for reading!_

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Carol shut the front door after waving to the woman who was trying desperately to stuff her three daughters into the mid-sized car. Tuesdays were busy in the Rhee house, as the three girls all had different lessons and activities to get to all while Mrs. Rhee worked a second shift to pay for all these extracurriculars. Which left Carol with the youngest Rhee, and she could feel the small boy tugging at the sleeve of her oversized grey sweater that expertly fell off her shoulder. It hung low over her shiny blue leggings that tucked into her white socks and Keds, but his pulling was stretching it to an almost indecent exposure.

"What is it, Glenn?" she turned to him, and he peered up at her from beneath an oversized baseball hat.

"It's Tuesday, Carol!"

"Yep, I am well aware of that."

"_Carol_," he said with a pleading edge to his little lisp, "It's _Tues_day."

Carol wracked her brain, shrugging at him in confusion. The seven year old huffed, his arms hanging dejectedly at his side and she tried to hold in her laughter at his posture.

"Jacqui's getting the new game in today! I heard at school that it's _Space Invaders_, and you promised, Carol, you _promised_ that we could go when she turned it on!" he started tugging at her sleeve again and Carol had to keep a hand across her chest to keep the shirt up. For a little thing he was certainly very strong.

"I don't remember saying that, at all. But I guess we can go…after you finish your homework," she added, pointing towards the worksheets spread across the living room coffee table. Glenn's face completely lit up as he hopped over to the table, throwing himself down to work at the math problems and spelling words earnestly.

After twenty five minutes, and a lot of prodding from Glenn to have Carol give him the answers (which she refused) they began to walk the few blocks to Jacqui's Kitchenette. As promised a gleaming new machine enticed them from the window, a moderate crowd of children lining up their quarters along the edge as placeholders. Carol dug into her pocket, handing Glenn two silver coins and relinquishing him to the group of kids. He put up one of his quarters proudly, and joined the clump as they glued themselves to the screen, watching as the little triangular blip of a spaceship shot at the aliens that taunted from above.

Seating herself at the old fashioned counter top, Carol took in the amusing sight. Jacqui came over to her, a huge grin plastered across her face, "That thing sure is a hit! I have a feeling I'm going to have to be pushing the little devils out when it comes to closing time!"

Carol laughed with her, "You're definitely going to have your hands full."

"Can I get you something Carol?"

She discreetly felt around her pocket but Jacqui caught the slight deflation as Carol shook her head, "No thanks."

Jacqui turned quickly, grabbing a small glass and pouring some leftover blue slush from the ICEE Machine into it.

"On the house," she proclaimed setting the cup in front of her.

Carol mouthed a thank you, taking the cold beverage into her hand and sticking a straw in it. She turned in her stool to watch the kids, who as far as she could tell hadn't moved an inch, as she sucked at the bits of flavored ice.

The door jangled open and Carol started choking on the chunk of ice that she inhaled from her gasp. "Are you _serious_ right now?" she sputtered, trying to regain her breathing as Daryl sauntered towards her.

"You got a problem, Peletier?" he eyed her, leaning passed her to rest his elbows on the countertop.

"You're following me!" she kept her voice low, eyes darting suspiciously around the room to make sure the other patrons weren't starting to whisper.

He snorted, turning around to toss up a bag of M&amp;M's on the counter to be rung up. "What gives you that idea?" he said while handing Jacqui a wrinkled bill from his back pocket.

She balked at him, the straw of her ICEE dangling around her lips as he bit open the wrapper of the candy packaging. "Oh I don't know," she said sarcastically, "Maybe the stunt you pulled in Espinoza's class today? And now you just _happen_ to come in here for some chocolate? Don't they sell candy over at the gas station?"

Daryl shrugged, mumbling between clumps of chocolate that melted together in his mouth, "This stuff tastes better."

Her eyes lingered on his before she rolled them, turning her back to him to watch the video game again. It was a little girl's turn now, her pigtails bouncing high on her head as she vigorously moved with the controller. She could feel Daryl behind her, the gross sound of his munching inches from her ear making her stomach churn. She thought about walking away to sit closer to the game but she refused to give him that satisfaction.

The little girl, bowing in defeat, relinquished the controls to Glenn. He stood on his tiptoes, browsing above the edge of the no-taller-than-four-foot crowd until he spotted Carol. Waving enthusiastically until she smiled at him, he turned with all the stoic seriousness of a warrior and prepared to enter his galactic battle.

"That a friend of yours or something?" Daryl mumbled from behind her.

Turning her head over her shoulder she looked at him with a slight glare, "He's my neighbor."

Daryl nodded pleasantly as he shook out some more buttons of chocolate into his hand. He held out the small batch to her and she accepted it without thinking, their fingers brushing against each other in the exchange. His skin was rough and calloused but warmer than she would have imagined. He was so icy all the time, shouldering passed people with a stunning glare that she figured he would be cold to touch. Popping the candies in her mouth, she swept over him again, her eyes softening and the corners of his mouth tilted up in the minutest smile she had ever seen.

There was an odd calm to his presence, and Carol could feel her body relaxing so that it naturally curved closer to him. Comfortably silent as the sounds of Glenn's erratic button pounding filled the room, she didn't feel any pressure to make conversation or put up fronts to ensure the safety of her reputation. They were content with just being simply, naturally themselves. Contemplating him beneath the fluorescent glow Carol decided he was kind of handsome without his signature scowl. He grumbled, his mouth smoothing back into a straight line as he looked passed her, his eyes not quite focused on the game.

"I lost," Glenn's resigned voice teetered from below and Carol drew her eyes away from Daryl to look down at the boy.

"Sorry, kid," she offered him a smile, fixing the baseball cap that had skewed from his spirited gameplay, "But it's just as well, we should head home before your mom gets back." Carol slid off the stool, her hand on Glenn's shoulder. She looked back to Daryl as he was wiping his hands crudely on the legs of his jeans to wish him goodbye but before she could open her mouth he had walked passed them and exited.

"Okay then," she muttered to herself earning a strange look from Glenn. She patted him on the back, ushering him forward and out the door. She found Daryl on the corner smoking a cigarette, and with renewed vigor from the slight that two days ago she wouldn't have thought twice about, but now was completely offended by, she held Glenn's hand and hurried passed him. Halfway across the crosswalk she heard the stomping of his boots behind them.

Despite her best efforts he caught up to them by time they reached the opposite corner. "You live down this way?" he asked, pointing towards a backstreet behind the gas station.

"What? I mean, _yes_, but what are you doing?" She was flustered, trying to keep in step with him as he walked down the sidewalk instead of crossing the street.

"Walking you home," he said simply as if it was the most obvious answer in the world.

"Wait, what? Why?"

Flicking his cigarette into the street, he eyed the gas station where Carol could just make out his brother stumbling around near a small pile of hubcaps and tires much to the amusement of the other gas attendants.

"Well, you don't have to. I can take care of myself," she waved her free hand towards the belligerent assembly.

Daryl shook his head, biting out a short laugh, "You can just say thank you."

Before she could quip about his attitude Glenn, who was walking between them, tugged at the fraying end of Daryl's sleeveless shirt. He looked from the child to Carol and then back again as if he was figuring out how exactly one talks to a seven year old.

"Yeah?" he said gruffly, ignoring Carol's eye roll at the ineptitude of his tone.

"Are you a bodyguard?" the kid scrutinized him.

"No, he's not," Carol answered when Daryl just stared down at him with narrowed eyes.

"Is he a cop?" Glenn looked to Carol now and she shook her head adamantly.

"Definitely not."

"Then who is he?"

"He's my…He's Daryl," she settled on just giving his name, unsure if she could call him a friend. They weren't friends, they couldn't be. She had only really spoken to him for the first time the day before, and it seemed that if they weren't arguing they were half-angrily staring at each other. That hardly counted as a friendship. She couldn't deny though that strange contentment she felt around him, as twitchy and unstable as it was.

"Is he your boyfriend?" Glenn whispered at a level loud enough for any person on the block to hear. From her peripheral Carol could see Daryl ducking his head to the side.

"No, Glenn. Boys and girls _can_ be just friends. Not that we are—but it's important you know that," she said with conviction, squeezing his little hand a bit tighter in her own. They walked the next few blocks wordlessly with the exception of Glenn's run-on babbling about the game and how he could better his technique. When they reached the Rhee's house, Daryl hung back, leaning against the junction of the fence between Carol's house and Glenn's. She hurried up the steps, ushering Glenn inside and saying a quick greeting to his mother and sisters. When she came back down she wasn't entirely surprised to find Daryl still waiting there. Wrapping her arms around herself, she walked passed him, stopping at the opening of the walkway to curiously peer back at him.

He stayed where he was leaning against the fence, picking at his fingernails.

"So we ain't friends, huh?" he continued to work at the dirt beneath his nails, not bothering to look at her. She sighed heavily, taking the few steps back to be beside him.

"That's not what I meant Daryl," she said.

He shrugged, "Sounded pretty clear to me."

Growing agitated by his obstinate picking, she huffed and snapped, "Well we aren't! You never said a word to me before yesterday."

"Never had much of a reason to," he brought his finger up to his mouth, pulling at the broken skin with his teeth.

"And what's your reason now?" His eyes met hers then, and she took a step back from the intensity of them. Searching her face like a ship starved lighthouse, he let his hand drop to his side, brushing against hers in the fall.

"Don't know," the words smashed together into one syllable as he licked his lips. Carol held a gasp in her throat, forcing the breath back down to her twisting stomach, uncertain as to where the sudden burst of tightness had come from. She felt feverish, stifled under the setting sun as a glare of brilliant red painted half the sky above them, the other side already filling with twinkling dots of stars. He wouldn't let her go though, the strength of his gaze locking her in place. Her chest heaved as her lungs tried to work passed the constriction that tangled within her.

He tore his eyes from her and she could breathe again. She wasn't sure if it was the shadows of the setting sun playing tricks but she could swear his cheeks were tinged with a crimson flush. He dug the heel of his palm into his right eye before he shook himself free, breaking away from his post against the fence to walk passed her.

"See ya," he mumbled, his fingers fumbling around his back jean pocket for a new cigarette.

"Daryl!" she called, pivoting swiftly on the balls of her feet. He stopped, turning his head only slightly so she could just make out his profile beneath a curtain of shaggy hair. She didn't take a step closer, choosing to keep the distance between them, but she leaned onto her tiptoes bouncing nervously as she continued, "I take the bus on Pine…I don't know if you plan on going to school tomorrow but maybe I'll see you at the stop?"

The corner of his lips tilted upwards, the cigarette dangling between his lips as he gave a weak nod. Rocking on her feet until he turned the corner, she pressed her mouth into her hand, stifling a confused giggle. Carol felt simultaneously heavy and light; her thoughts whirling around in her head like a high speed cyclone and she couldn't hold onto a single one long enough to make any sense of what she had just done. A brusque wind rustled the leaves above her, cutting into the thin material of her sweater. She jumped up, shaking out of her giddy befuddlement and ran up the short walk to the front door, closing it behind her with a soft click.


	4. Chapter 4

_You guys are amazing! Thank you so much for reading and supporting this fic! :D_

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The smallest patch of sunlight found itself perfectly angled across Carol's eyes. She could feel the heat of the beam, and rolling away from it she almost toppled off her twin sized bed. Catching herself just before she hit the wood floor, she laid on the cool ground in a curled burrito of blankets. It was comfortable enough and she wondered why she never slept on the floor before as her mind began to fuzz and she was lulled back into a dream.

Like an angry prehistoric reptile her alarm clock screeched until it clicked to the preset radio station. A voice called through the static and Carol attempted to wiggle beneath her bed to escape the nagging radio host.

_It's a bright, bright, bright and suuuunnnyyyy day! So let's spin around like a record and get up, up, UP!_

The irritatingly chirpy voice pulled her up from the floor. Yawning she staggered around the room, sleep still crusted in her eyes and she rubbed at them lazily. She pulled the oversized t-shirt that she slept in over her head, tossing it with tired accuracy at the hamper in the corner. Her closet was small and the door stuck most mornings forcing her to tug it with a hard yank before it would open. Moving subconsciously to the rhythmic top 40 hit, her shoulders bouncing up and down as she browsed the colors and patterns. She pulled out a pair of acid wash jeans that Michonne had attempted to make for her over the summer when she was deep in a DIY phase, but they came out more banged up and faded than anything. Sticking her head through an oversized geometric patterned sweater, her ponytail flopped out at the side of her head in a cascading waterfall of curls that poked out in wry directions.

When she finally made it to the kitchen she found the plate of dinner that she had left for her father still sitting on the table, untouched. She brought it over to the garbage, assuming that her father must have worked late and left early. On one hand it was a good thing that Mr. Jergen gave him so many hours at the store, but Carol worried about him. He rarely ate a whole meal on account of being too tired to lift the fork to his mouth most nights, and the closest he ever came to relaxing was when he'd fall asleep in the old recliner, a half finished beer in his hand and the news channel droning on from the television.

Grabbing her knapsack and an apple she walked towards the bus stop. Chewing down to the core she threw the remains of the apple in the garbage of a house she passed. She stood diligently at the stop, looking up and down the street even though she was fifteen minutes early. She tried to fool herself into thinking it was the bus she was looking for, but really it was the irritable boy with his huffy attitude and angel wings that she was hoping to catch sight of.

It was ridiculous, really, to think that he'd be joining her. What would she even do if he did? Stare at him as neither of them said anything and awkwardly stand around in silence? She couldn't even remember the reason that compelled her to tell him about the bus anyway; the circumstances of the night before felt more distant and murky as each minute passed.

He wasn't coming, she told herself, trying with all her might to put a stopper on the sinking disappointment that was dragging her gut down to her feet. She pulled at her knapsack, intent on digging through it for her Walkman so she could drown out the feeling that she was the most pathetic person on the planet. She stopped as the roaring sound of an engine careened towards her. Puttering down the street, she squinted at the motorcycle gliding through the stop sign at the corner until it halted in front of her.

Straining her lips against a smile, resulting in a pursed tease, she tried to keep her stomach calm before it flip flopped right out onto the sidewalk.

"C'mon," Daryl said, motioning with his head to the seat behind him.

"Really?" her lips broke their barricade, spreading into a full smile as he nodded. She hurried over to him, a slight skip in her step. Steadying the bike with his feet, his upper body turned to watch her attempt to hop on it with grace and poise. Instead her sneaker caught on the seat, a cringing squeak emitting from the slide and she tumbled onto it with a hefty flop.

"Not funny," she muttered as he snorted. She leaned back, her thighs clenching the metal between her.

"I ain't gonna bite," he called over his shoulder and felt behind him for her arm. His fingers circled around her wrist and he pulled her forward. She scooted closer, until her knees hugged his hips and she could comfortably clasp around his torso.

"Do you have a helmet?" she yelled into his ear as he started the engine with a garish purr.

He snickered over the noise, kicking his heel down. The bike lurched, flattening Carol against his back with the momentum.

"You just hold on," he instructed as he weaved the bike through the streets. For the first few minutes Carol refused to loosen her death grip on him, her eyes clenched shut as her forehead dug in between his shoulder blades. As she realized that he was pretty in control of the motorcycle—only tipping it smoothly when they needed to turn—she began to relax. Carol let her head up, feeling the rush of air against her face that caught her hair in a whirlwind. Feeling steadier, she leaned back and removed her arms from around Daryl's waist to hold on to the seat behind her. The exhilaration was almost too much. They were moving at speeds that seemed impossible in the openness that surrounded them and she felt drunk from it. It took all of her control to keep herself from flinging her arms to the side, tilting her head back and letting out the primal yell that scratched at her chest.

"Speed bump!" Daryl yelled and Carol took hold of him as they jostled. She pressed her forehead to his shoulder, laughing into the leather of his vest. It all felt incredibly easy.

Maneuvering around the buses lined in front of the school building, Daryl stopped at the main stairs. Carol removed herself from the bike in a much smoother fashion than she had gotten on. When Daryl made no move to follow after her, merely squinting up at her figure as she adjusted her knapsack, Carol narrowed her eyes at him.

"You rode all the way here, you may as well come to class," she suggested sternly.

"Nah," Daryl shook his head, "I gotta get this back before my brother wakes up or he'll kick my head in."

"You stole Merle's bike?"

Daryl shrugged his shoulders, wiping at the chrome handlebar.

"Wow," Carol said, her eyes widening in mock adoration, "You _are_ a rebel."

"Pffft," Daryl rolled his eyes, "Stop."

Carol smiled at him, giggling as she shook her head and he let out a light chuckle. "Well…" Carol bit her lip, twisting from side to side as she tried desperately to stretch out the seconds until she had to go inside, "Maybe I'll see you around?"

"You free tonight?" he ducked his head down, mumbling the question to the motorcycle.

"I could be," she answered, her smile unfaltering.

He looked back up at her, his fingers twitching as he clenched and released them nervously, "I'll stop by…if you want me to."

"Alright," she nodded enthusiastically. Catching how eager that may seem she stopped mid-nod and casted her eyes downwards, watching as the toes of her sneakers bumped together.

"Okay."

"Okay."

"Alright."

A knotting clump twisted her insides together like tangled branches while the world dimmed under the focus of his blue eyes locking with hers. She shifted on the balls of her feet until he nodded towards the building behind her.

"You should go on in. Don't want you hurling into anyone cause you're late," he teased. She shook her head, watching as he started the motorcycle and left her at the sidewalk. Still smiling, she turned to see Lori, Rick and Shane not too far behind her, watching the entire exchange. Her smile fell as she let out a lumbering air and hurried passed them, careful not to make the eye contact that they were seeking. In her haste, she hadn't noticed Michonne standing a few feet away, her jaw hanging to the floor in a shocked expression that was almost cartoonish.

"Carol!" She shouted, jogging towards her, the chains of her necklaces bouncing against her leather vest.

Stopping just short of the main lobby, Carol turned slowly. She tried to smile but the worrisome look in Michonne's eyes poured guilt over her like molten lava.

"Sorry?" she grimaced.

"Where the hell were you? I thought you were dead. Well, first I thought I was still asleep and having a nightmare because you weren't on the bus, and _then_ I thought you were dead. So imagine my surprise to see you on a _motorcycle_? _Daryl Dixon's motorcycle_? Carol, you wouldn't even ride my ten speed down a hill last summer."

"I know!" she floundered under Michonne's wide and wild eyes. "He just kind of showed up this morning at the bus stop and offered me a ride."

Michonne tilted her head, her eyes pinching together as she saw straight through the casualness that Carol attempted to convey.

"Okay," Carol admitted as they reached her locker, "Maybe I also mentioned where I took the bus when I saw him last night."

Michonne clenched her eyes tight, her fingers pressing into her temple as she slowly repeated back to Carol, "You _saw_ him…_last night_?"

Carol bit her lip, "Well yeah. It wasn't planned! I was with Glenn at Jacqui's and he kind of came in and then walked me home and we talk—"

"Maybe I am dreaming," Michonne said to herself, pinching at her forearm, "Because in the real world Daryl Dixon doesn't just go to Jacqui's to hang out with you and your teeny tiny neighbor."

Carol shrugged, pushing her knapsack into the overcrowded locker space, "I don't know what to tell you 'Chonne. But that's how I ended up on his motorcycle this morning. It probably won't ever happen again so don't worry, I won't be stranding you to take the bus alone anytime soon."

"That's the least of my worries," Michonne muttered. Carol rolled her eyes as she slammed the locker. She hadn't noticed the hulking size of a rather large boy that had decided to lean against the locker next hers. She jumped from the surprise of seeing him, and heard Michonne snarl under her breath.

"Ladies," the boy smiled, addressing them both but his gaze was locked on Carol.

"Hi Ed," she greeted, her voice straining to be as polite as possible.

"Big game Friday night," he pulled at his expertly cleaned letterman jacket as he looked her over. He was attractive in his own right, muscular and wide making him the perfect linebacker. There was something about him though that filled Carol with dread. Maybe it was the way that he had hounded her for a date for the past year, which she diligently and reliably declined only to have his wolfish smile follow after her. He never seemed phased by her rejection, always following up with another proposal a few weeks later.

"Oh, is it?" she feigned ignorance. Football was a pretty big deal in their small town. Not like it was in other areas but a high school football game meant that there was actually something to do for a night and most of the town turned up for it.

He chuckled, belittling her as he shook his head, "Always with the jokes. C'mon Carol, let me take you to dinner before the game."

She forced out a soft laugh, taking a step back from him. The tension that Michonne drew into her muscles, her face terse and glaring, kept her still even as Carol bumped against her.

"We weren't really planning on going to the game, Ed. Sorry," Carol kept her tone affable, almost smiling with a hint of regret as she turned him down.

Ed just smiled, his teeth sharp and gleaming, "I have a feeling you'll change your mind by morning. I'll ask again tomorrow." He winked at her, his cloudy eyes narrowing as he flicked his gaze at Michonne. He walked passed them, whistling a tune as he retreated down the hall.

"One day you're going to let me kick his ass," Michonne scowled.

"No, I'm not," Carol stepped away from her, walking calmly towards homeroom.

Michonne followed after her, "You're too nice to him, Carol. You have to be meaner or he's _never_ going to quit."

"So he keeps asking me out and I'll keep saying no. It's not a big deal," she shrugged, avoiding Michonne's searching looks.

"Why even put up with that? Wouldn't you rather he just leave you alone?!"

"Of course I do, but you know I can't. I have to be at least kind to him, otherwise…" Carol trailed off, and Michonne bitterly acquiesced with an unhappy groan.

"It's bullshit," Michonne muttered.

Carol grabbed her hand, giving it a squeeze. They promised to see each other at lunch as they always did before Carol turned into her homeroom.


	5. Chapter 5

_You guys have been incredible with the amount of enthusiasm and support you've been showing this little fic of mine! Really I can't thank you all enough! :D Hope you enjoy this next chapter!_

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Music wheezed from the cranky old television set but it was blaring enough to set Carol's feet into various twists and turns as she moved around the kitchen making dinner. She sang along, her voice out of pitch and whiny. She had the house to herself for at least another two hours, so she didn't feel the need to impress anyone with more dulcet tones.

She flipped over the chicken cutlet, the oil bubbling up rapidly around it until it turned to a crisp brown. Green beans and carrots steamed in a pot on the side, and she had even cut two potatoes up into thick round chunks to fry. Chipped china plates scraped against each other as she pulled them from the overhead cabinet, setting the table for two even if her father wouldn't be home in time to join her. Seeing his plate opposite hers, wrapped in foil, usually made it easier to wave off the loneliness that sometimes wafted in during her solitary meals.

As she was piling the vegetables into the two plates the screen door bounced off its frame. Carol's head whipped around the small opening that led into the living room.

"Dad?" she asked, a few carrots rolling off a plate as it tilted downwards in her hand.

"Hey sweetie," he seeped tiredness, rubbing his eyes and yawning as he removed the apron that counted as a uniform before reaching the kitchen.

"Why are you home?" she questioned, placing the dinner plates down on the circular table that sat in the middle of the room, big enough for just them.

Her father, with his graying temples and honey eyes, was a kind looking man. People trusted him on a glance, and it aided in his knack for retail. Customers always joked that he didn't know how to frown, his good mood never seeming to sully when he was in public. Seeing him now, all of his body weight leaning against the dining chair, his grip biting into the spokes of the wood, Carol doubted that even they could miss the weariness that encompassed him.

Taking in a long sniff of the freshly made dinner, a commodity that he hadn't had in some time, he avoided her eyes as he sighed. "Carol, honey. We need to talk."

"What is it, Dad?" she gravitated towards the opposite chair, sinking into it with a deflated slump.

Her father stayed standing, his mouth twitching in discomfort as he struggled to speak to her, "Mr. Jergen's son, little Eddie. He likes you, sweetie. And I think you should—"

She cut her father off with a groan, her head collapsing into her open palms.

"I know, honey, I know you don't want to. But I can lose my job…Jergen sent me home early—as a warning—to talk you into going to this football game or whatever it is with his son."

"Dad! You can't be serious," muffled behind her hands, Carol's whole body swayed defiantly in the chair.

"Carol…" her father warned, "It's just one date sweetheart. Just let Eddie have what he wants, let him win you over for the time being. Most likely the thrill of the chase will wear off and he'll already be moving on to the next girl before the end of the night."

Bristled, Carol snapped her head up, "Am I that expendable?"

An unfiltered sadness caused her voice to waver as she stood from the table.

"That's not what I meant. Carol, please, sit back down," her father begged, motioning to her now empty seat.

"It's okay," she responded, miles away as she stared out the small, rounded kitchen window. "I'm not very hungry."

She felt mechanical, forcing the achy lump that formed in her chest to dissolve. Swallowing her grief she turned back to her father, nodding methodically, "I'll go with him Dad. Don't worry about work, everything will turn out fine."

Walking passed him, she placed her hand on his shoulder. Her father covered her with his own cold and damp fingers, squeezing slightly. She gave him the best smile she could muster before slipping into the living room.

At the sound of the front door creaking her father asked, "Where are you going, bug?"

She gathered herself, a great big puff of her held in her cheeks before she exhaled, "I left something at the Rhees'. I'll be back in a bit, you know how Mrs. Rhee can get chatty."

"Don't be out too long," he called, but she was already out the door.

Expediting down the walkway, her vision beginning to blur as she prepared to lose herself in whatever frank emotions wanted to seize her, she almost missed the silhouette at the edge of her gate.

"Hey," his voice was gentler than she had heard before, but still brimming with that drawling gruffness she had come to recognize. She smiled at Daryl, bits of lightness crumbling away at the hard mass that had begun to form within her.

"Told you I'd stop by," he tilted his head towards her house, unsure if she'd remembered their morning arrangement.

"I know," she said in almost a whisper, marveling at him. A tear pricked at the inner corner of her eye and she willed it not to fall, sliding the back of her hand up her cheek in what she hoped was a casual wipe. Daryl swept over her with a look, assessing her until the crinkles of his brows softened with a decision.

"Go for a walk?" he offered, pointing a thumb behind him. She gave a slight bob of her head, and they walked in tandem down the craggy sidewalk. He led her to a playground that sat between two houses on the neighboring street. It didn't offer much by way of entertainment for kids, with its broken basketball hoop and cracked swing set. The small plastic jungle gym was riddled with graffiti and cigarette butts were as abundant as the patches of grass that spread around the dilapidated structure. The lot was empty for the time being, and they climbed up onto the double racing slides, each claiming one of the metal chutes for their own.

"Almost forgot," Daryl mumbled, searching in his front pocket. "Here."

He tossed over a package of M&amp;M's to Carol and she laughed. "Is this going to be a thing now?" she asked.

Daryl gave a non-committal shrug as she opened the package, pouring a handful of bright colored candies into her cupped palm.

"You want it to be a thing?"

She smiled at him with a tilt of her head, motioning for him to open his hand. He obliged and she plopped the candies into the round of his palm before fishing for her own handful. "Well I'll certainly never complain about you bringing me chocolate, that's for sure," she threw the candies into her mouth lavishly.

The sound of his chortle mixed with the crunching of the hard shells in his mouth echoed through the hushed park before it fell back into its quiet. Short minutes passed in their companionable silence, broken only by the crinkling of the wrapper as they passed the M&amp;M's between them.

"Do you know Ed Jergen?" she said quietly, staring into the darkness as she waved off his attempt to hand her back the candy bag.

"You mean _Jerk_en?"

She smiled at that before withering again like a punctured balloon. "My father works at his father's store, and his father is as much of an asshole as _Little Eddie_."

"The hardware store before the overpass?"

"Yeah," she affirmed, "And now Mr. Jergen is threatening to fire my dad if I don't go out with Ed."

Daryl peeked at her, the clipping moon a halo behind her frenzied hair, "You do everything that your dad tells you to?"

Her eyes flashed to him, and she gave a short grunt and shrugged, "I do what I have to do."

"Alright, goody two-shoes, no need to pop a cornea," he teased, trying to lighten the mood but one glance at her sudden rigidness and he knew something deeper than an arranged date with Ed Jergen was bothering her.

"I'm all he has," she told him with a straight back and her head held high. "My mom…she walked out seven months ago."

Pulling a cigarette from his pocket, Daryl let the unlit stick suspend carelessly between his lips. She could feel him boring into her, studying her in the denseness. Her mouth smoothed back from the taut line she had been holding it in.

"It was because my dad lost his job. He worked for a small publishing company. They never published anything famous, mostly local writers. Lots of trash novels and weird local history stuff. He wasn't prestigious or anything but it seemed that way to people who didn't know and that was good enough for Mom. When the company went under eight months ago and Dad lost his job…I don't know, she just couldn't take it. Being the wife of the man who sells drills in a dusty old store wasn't exactly what she imagined for herself.

"So after three weeks of it she packed up everything and took off. And I mean _everything_. All her clothes, her pictures, even these tiny diamond studs she had given to me on my sixteenth birthday. I had wanted those earrings for as long as I could remember, because they were hers. They were her most treasured possession, she never ever took them off and when she gave them to me it was like I got to keep a piece of her with me all the time. Now there isn't a drop of her left," her long winded rant left her wiping anxiously at a stray tear that had escaped down her cheek.

"You mad at her?" he muttered and she watched the cigarette dance in its place against his teeth.

"Not really," she sighed. He watched her, flicking his lighter in his thumb but not yet setting the flame to the end of the white stick. His eyes were darker in the night, and she felt a ping of longing to see their blueness as a shaggy chunk of hair fell in front of his face.

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want to bleed out, Daryl. I sewed up my wounds. It's not the tightest stitching but it's holding me together," she held her breath against the words, seeping them in conviction.

A spiral of smoke blew between them from Daryl's cigarette, their eyes locking together through the cloud. He flicked the ashes to the ground before speaking to the darkness in front of them, "I know it's damn selfish of me but I'm still pissed at my mom for dying the way she did. Like a stupid idiot in that bed with her smokes. I know she didn't mean it, but sometimes it feels like she abandoned us too. Ain't barely a damned thing left of her neither." His voice was vinegar, burning his throat and he laughed at the soft sadness that lingered in the aftertaste. "Guess I'm not so good at stitching up my wounds."

"Maybe you just need help reaching the hard spots," she whispered, cocking her head to the side as she twisted towards him. He stared at her until she was an unfocused blur but he couldn't look away. A smile hung lazily on her lips as she drank in his sight, making him squirm uncomfortably under her gaze. "You're not like how everyone says you are, are you?"

Daryl snorted, taking a long drag on his cigarette, the smoke folding around his words when he spoke, "Depends. What do they say I'm like?"

She chewed at her lip, eyes darting all over the different points of his face, connecting them like an unknown constellation.

"Everyone thinks you're just this angry scowl, because that's what you want them to think, but I see you."

She thought of searching for his hand through the darkness, of holding it in hers and brushing her thumb against the pulse of his wrist. Even the imagined beating of his skin, and the muscles that stretched beneath it caused her to blush.

"Careful," he warned in a lilting tone, "Your new boyfriend Ed won't appreciate that kind of talk."

She rolled her eyes, willing her heart to slow its beat but it refused, acutely aware of the mere inches between them. She had to escape, if only for a minute just to relieve the strangely familiar tightness that seized her. Teetered on the edge of the slide, she propelled herself down it and landed in the hard grass with a thud.

With a grunt Daryl followed after her, wiggling his way down the slide gracelessly.

"So when is this date with good ol' Ed?"

"Friday night," she bit her lip. "He wants to go to dinner before the game."

"Well that's original," Daryl rolled his eyes, stomping his cigarette into the ground beneath his boot.

"Yeah, well, not much can compare to M&amp;M's and a broken playground," she teased.

He shook his head, his mouth opening into a smile before stifling it back, "Stop."

She laughed, knocking against his shoulder with hers as they began to walk towards the exit. She exhaled stiffly before muttering, "I don't even like football."

"Obviously Ed's gonna be on the field, so you just have to make it through dinner, right?"

Carol nodded.

"I'll wait for you at the game then," he continued. "Soon as Ed drops you off, we can split."

"You don't have to do that, Daryl."

"Whatever," he shrugged, "I ain't got much else to do."

Carol stalled at the opening to the playground, turning to him and he almost toppled over her from the short stop. She looked up—he had a few inches on her but not much—itching to brush the hair out of his face so she could see his eyes more clearly. Her hand floated up of its own accord but she fought it down, and their fingertips brushed against each other. He winced slightly, but to her surprise kept his hand against hers. She slipped her middle and index fingers between his, curling them around into a hooked position.

"Thank you," she leaned closer to him, so close that she could see the bob of his Adam's apple in the wave of an anxious gulp.

She only got so far before a rustle in the bushes beside them caused her to jump away from him. Smashing glass sounded from the same direction and Daryl instinctively stood in front of her.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," she heard him mutter before the signature _tsk tsk_ of a scratchy voice hit her like an anvil.

"Finally getting some, aye little brother?" Merle Dixon staggered out from the bush, belligerent and bloody.

"Merle," Daryl sneered with a warning as his older brother leaned against the broken fence that marked off the playground, almost toppling over it. "The hell you doing out here?"

"You know Martinez and those assholes down on Sycamore wouldn't give me what was rightfully mine. They knew I won that damn poker game. Got into a scuffle," he laughed as his fingers poked through the reddened holes of his wife beater. "I got out before that damn nosey old bat next door called the cops. Thought it'd be easier to cut through the park."

He smiled at them, leering forward with another uneven step. Daryl put his hand up, and Merle bounced off it lightly. His arm lobbed around his younger brothers shoulders, and he winked at Carol over Daryl's side. "Gonna introduce me to this pretty peach?" Merle puckered his lips.

Groaning under the full weight of Merle, Daryl tried to steady him.

"Hey ain't you the girl from the other night? At the gas station?" He snickered. "C'mon darlin', give us a name." He spread his mouth to reveal yellowing teeth but Carol took the jeers in stride, refusing to waver.

"Carol, I'm sorry. I gotta get him home," Daryl maneuvered himself to better hold Merle up, turning to face her now.

"It's okay," she nodded, smiling politely. "I totally understand."

"Carool," Merle repeated, turning and tasting the syllables as he twisted her name in his mouth. "Caaarol. Carol. Carrrol."

"Cut it," Daryl jerked his brother forward, ready to march with him. He looked back at Carol, "You gonna be okay? I could try setting him down by the slide and I can walk you home and come back for him."

"Daryl," she smiled, placing her hand quickly on his arm, far from where Merle's limp hand fell, "Its fine. I can take care of myself."

"A'right," he relinquished, "I'll see you?"

"Yeah," she smiled. "Maybe you should come to school tomorrow. Then you can see me for, like, seven straight hours."

The corners of his mouth tilted up. She waved her goodbye, watching the struggling mass of the two Dixons fuse together as they made their way down the street before she turned to go home.


	6. Chapter 6

_You guys don't even know how happy it makes me that you're all enjoying this so much! It feels my little heart with so much joy!_

_**Slight warning**__: Ed is a huge asshole. Trigger warning for general douchebagginess, and try not to punch him through your computer screen._

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Ed was already waiting for her by her locker the next morning, a toothy smile cast down from his tall frame. Carol held her arms tight across her chest, shielding herself from his cutting gaze. She shivered under his tracks and her sneakers squealed in protest as she dragged her feet closer to him.

Reaching the locker, her fingers wrapped clumsily around the combination lock, the numbers whirling in hurried clicks. Hoping that if she just didn't acknowledge Ed he'd go away, she pooled all her concentration into the lock, giving it a hard tug. Wrenching with too much strength she elbowed her own ribs, and heard Michonne suck in a sharp breath next to her. Ed rustled his jacket, straightening up from the row of red metal doors that were supporting him, paying no mind to the way Carol hastily took up the lock combination again.

"Hey _Carol_," he greeted her, reflecting to Michonne that she wasn't needed in this conversation. Still she stood solidly beside Carol, not wavering an inch.

"Ed," Carol attempted to smile politely through her gritted teeth as she gripped the lock tightly and gave it a violent jiggle.

"So…I was thinking five o'clock tomorrow? Burgers sound okay?"

The nervous waver in his voice took her by surprise and Carol glanced up at him from beneath a puff of hair. A part of her wanted nothing more than to tell Ed to gag on a spoon and get the hell away from her, his presumptuousness making it all the worse for her to have to bend to his will. She stomped out the defiant voice and forced a more natural smile than the one she had granted him before.

"Sure." She gave her affirmation curtly as she tried to shut the conversation down, but Ed's smile only grew bigger.

"Great!" he said zestfully, as if it was an actual concern to him that she might say no again. "I'll see you then."

She turned away from him and worked the lock once more. Leaning close to her, the heat of his palm bearing down on her lower back making her wince away, lips curling into the frizz of her hair. His brute mass pushed between her and Michonne.

"I'm glad you changed your mind," he whispered. It took every muscle of her optic nerve not to roll her eyes into the back of her head and she stilled until he released her. Michonne's glare followed him as Ed met up with some of his teammates, their whooping and hollering deafening in the already noisy hall.

"You know," Michonne said once he rounded the corner. "It might work if you try to open your actual locker." She pointed at the number plate that read 67 and not 68.

"Oh for fuck's sake," Carol groaned, moving one locker to the left and popping the combination open with ease.

At a quarter to five the next night, Carol began to sweat. She pulled at the collar of her floral patterned dress, twisting the buttons in nervous circles. She flopped onto the couch, her hands raking at the roots of her curls.

The fifteen minutes passed in agonizing suspension, each second ticking away at her until she thought she'd lose her mind. Hoping Ed had forgotten when the clock reached a minute past five, Carol was ready to chuck off her Keds and crawl into bed. The stress had already exhausted her. Before she could claw at the shoelaces, there was a knock at the door.

She groaned, letting her body collapse even as she forced herself off the couch. Lingering steps carried her to the door and she finally straightened up as he pounded a second knock. When she opened the door Ed took up most of the frame. He held out a single red rose to her.

Taking it gingerly by the stem, Carol held her smile, "Thanks. I'll just go set it in water."

She turned quickly, speed walking into the kitchen. When she was safe from his sight, she stuck her tongue out in a fake gag. Tossing the rose promptly into the garbage she hurried back to the front door.

"Okay, let's go," she said with mock delight, scooting passed him and shutting the door behind her.

"I didn't hear you put on the water…"

"Oh," Carol grimaced, but lied easily, "I already had a vase sitting out."

Ed chuckled, "I like a girl who knows how she should be treated."

"No, I didn't mean…it was for something else. Wow, is this your car?" she averted the attention to the candy apple red Thunderbird, with its two black pinstripes that ran across the hood. It stuck out against the cracked sidewalk.

"You like it?" he smiled proudly, wiping the sleeve of his jacket against the door handle before opening it for her.

"It's…shiny," Carol said settling into the leather interior.

"My dad had it waxed this morning," he told her before closing the door and hurrying to the other side.

"Must be nice," she muttered but he didn't hear her over the booming stereo that he cranked up, the guitar riff slicing into her eardrums as if the band was playing from the back seat. It was a nice car though, as much as she didn't want to admit that anything about Ed was nice. He smelled good, too. A dab of cologne that wasn't overpowering, an art that most teenaged boys were not well practiced in.

The diner was one town over, a twenty minute drive from Carol's house. Ed passed the time by drumming against the steering wheel and Carol tried desperately to not let his out of sync beat irk her too badly.

"Wanna hear a joke?"

"Uh, sure…" Carol nodded, taking anything over the incessant tapping.

"Why didn't the toilet paper cross the road?"

"Oh," Carol thought for a second before shrugging her shoulders, "I have no idea. Why?"

"Cause it got stuck…in a CRACK!" his laugh reverberated through her and Carol blinked a few times.

"Get it," he egged further, "Like a buttcra—"

"I get it, Ed," she interrupted, side eyeing the passenger window. She had never been happier to see a neon flashing sign as he pulled into a parking spot. It was packed at Big Tiny's, which was usual on the night of a big game. The sea of townspeople were parted into two color groups, red and black for Wiltshire or yellow and green for Woodbury, their local rival. The man of the diner himself, an ex-convict who found his passion for greasy food working the prison kitchen, stood behind the counter flipping burgers and doling out milkshakes.

Ed ushered Carol to a booth on the appropriate side of the diner, his letterman jacket acting like a VIP ticket that let them cut through the crowd. The waitress came over immediately with a loud pop of pink bubble gum. Ed ordered them sodas as he looked through the menu. Scanning quickly, Ed plopped it down on the table. The waitress came back with their drinks as Carol reached to slide the menu over so she could take a peak and decide what to order.

"Thanks, we'll get two cheeseburgers, hold the onions, and just one order of fries," Ed ordered before Carol's fingertip had even touched the lamination. He swiped the menu from under her hand and gave them over to the waitress who nodded with a quick smile and set off to her next table.

Confused, Carol sat back in the vinyl seat, her arms crossing over her chest and her eyebrows knitting together.

"I hope that was okay with you? Just figured I know what's best here," he winked at her, bending his head down to sip his coke.

"Why just one order of fries?"

He looked up at her, his eyes lowering and his lips curling up, "C'mon Carol, you don't need your own basket of fries. But don't worry—I'll let you pick at mine."

Clicking the back of her teeth, Carol choked down the urge to call the waitress back and order the meal she actually wanted to eat. She decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, maybe the order of fries was a gigantic proportion and one plate was enough, and maybe the cheeseburgers _were_ the best thing they had to offer. Still, she would have preferred a choice of her own. A nagging pit grew in the hallow of her stomach.

"Hey, you know Mr. Greene right?" Ed asked, pulling her out of her thoughts. She nodded dumbly and he continued, "You ever hear about the time I screwed with his fake leg? Yeah he's got this fake leg 'cause he stepped on a mine in a war or whatever. Anyway, it's hilarious watching him hobble around one-legged and one day I…"

Ed droned on, his story both insensitive and appalling. Carol tuned him out, nodding at the appropriate pauses and offering a "mhm" or "yeah" when needed. After the horror story about Mr. Greene he enlightened her with tales of harassing a group of freshman cheerleaders, and egging Milton Mamet's house on Halloween. He told her about his parents taking him on vacation to the Caribbean, and about his grandfather's horse ranch in Texas and all the money he has to spend on Ray Bans. He owns four pairs. There wasn't a second during his continuous chatting where he asked Carol a thing about herself, or allowed her to state an opinion of her own. When the food came she was glad that she could bury herself in it, cutting down the effort to pretend to listen by half. The basket of fries was disappointingly small, but Ed handed her two crinkle cuts before smothering the rest in ketchup and shoveling them into his mouth.

"Everything going okay here?" the waitress asked, picking up Ed's demolished plate. "Would you like some more fries?" The question was directed to Carol and she smiled, ready to answer that yes, actually, she would love some fries when Ed was there just a second faster.

"The check is all we need."

Carol waited until the waitress took their plates and left them alone, before she lurched forward, her fingers braced against the cold grey table, "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"What?" Ed stared at her as if he was seeing her for the very first time, his eyes widening before narrowing into sharpened slits that threatened to slice at her.

"Did it ever occur to you that maybe I would like some fries with my meal? And not just two? I don't know who you think you are but you can't just talk for people without consulting them at least!" she snapped, seething at the way he had controlled the entire evening and she was tired of quietly acquiescing to him.

She watched as his chest heaved, shoulders hunching up around his neck until it almost disappeared, and he scrunched his nose in an effort to reign himself in before deciding that he could be in control of everything except his temper. Her heart dropped into the pit of her belly, instantly fearing that she had misjudged how far Ed could be pushed.

"You're a real bitch, you know that?"

Ed's hand flew forward, knocking her half-filled glass onto her white dress, drenching her in the sticky liquid. She jumped up, standing in shock. "Looks like you're a bit of a slob too. Go to the bathroom and clean up," he snarled, throwing a napkin at her.

Carol became keenly aware of the pairs of eyes that snapped towards her. The tips of her ears began to burn and the flush wrapped around her face and neck, threatening to squeeze all the air from her. She hustled to the bathroom before she could register the faces that watched her. Once inside, the tears broke from their great burbling dam. Snot ran down her lips and she ripped at the paper towels on the wall to dab them against her face. Gathering more towels she ran them under water and began to rub furiously at the dark stain in the lap of her dress. She paused to splash some cool water on her face, taking in deep, even gulps of air to calm herself.

The door creaked open and Carol shut her eyes to avoid the embarrassment of knowing who would be seeing her in such a state.

"Carol?" the voice was sweet and concerned and all too familiar. She opened one eye, peaking at Lori through the mirror.

She let out a breath that she wasn't aware she had been holding. "Hey."

"Are you alright?" Lori closed the door, discreetly checking that no one else was coming before she flipped the lock. "We saw you with Jergen and…well, it didn't look so great."

"Oh, no, it was just…a stupid accident," Carol chuckled, the laugh sounding unnatural even to her, "You'd think him being a jock and all he wouldn't be so clumsy but, here we are!" She gestured towards her dress for added emphasis. There was an instinct to cover up for him that she immediately didn't like, but she didn't think she had many other options.

Lori eyed her carefully, taking in every detail of her before she suggested, "If you're going to the game, Carol, you can ride with me and Rick. Shane brought his car, too. It wouldn't be a problem."

"Its fine, Lori. Really," Carol insisted, urging her to drop it. She moved passed the other girl, unlocking the door. She held her hand on the knob before looking back to Lori, and gave her a genuine smile before slipping back into the crowd.

Walking back to the booth she shared with Ed, she glanced over at a clock on the wall. Eighteen minutes until they would head back into town for the game. She could survive eighteen minutes of Ed's awful stories and corny jokes and overbearingness. All she had to do was keep his temper calm. When she got closer to the table she saw Rick and Shane retreating away from it, and a fuming Ed stirring uncomfortably. She spied as the two friends met up with Lori, speaking to her in hushed tones before the trio left the diner altogether. Biting her lip, Carol counted to ten before approaching her date. Only seventeen more minutes.

"Took you long enough," he barked, standing before she could even bend her knees to sink into the booth. He threw an indiscernible number of bills onto the table. Pushing against her shoulder he roughly guided her to the door. When they arrived at the Thunderbird he only further roared at her to get in. Not bothering to wait for her to put a seatbelt on, Ed revved the engine, peeling out of the spot with an elongated screech and speeding down the barely lit road.

"Ed," she tried to get his attention but he glared at the road without actually focusing on it. The speedometer climbed higher, and she noticed the tail end of a pick-up sitting some yards ahead of them at a red light. Carol clutched the seatbelt as it tightened around her. Panicking internally, she tried to remain calm but a plea edged into her voice. "Ed, please, slow down."

"_Ed!_" she yelled, voiding any attempt to keep herself together.

He slammed on the brakes, jerking them both forward and the heel of Carol's palm smacked against the dashboard. The distance of a pinhead sat between the front of the Thunderbird and the pick-up. The light turned green and the truck drove off while Ed and Carol sat motionless. Their heavy breathing mixed together and Carol slowly removed her hands from their steel grip on the dash.

"Oh my god, Carol. I'm so sorry," Ed turned to her, reaching his hand out to cup her cheek but she jerked away from his touch.

"I'm so sorry," he repeated, devastation crawling across him. "I don't know what I was thinking. I _wasn't_ thinking." He eased onto the gas, driving slowly down the pavement.

She stuck as close to the corner of the door as she could, her chest still heaving from the panicked breaths. Ed glanced at her, his face draining from the pure fear that she regarded him with. "Carol," he kept his voice soft and low, "I'm really…I shouldn't have done that. Back at the diner too, I shouldn't have snapped. I just, God I was just so nervous to finally be with you. I just really wanted you to like me you know? I was afraid you wouldn't like me anymore if it wasn't perfect."

"Let's just get to the game Ed," she spoke quietly, tentatively stepping around his instability. The nicer Ed was forming again, where the worst he could do was tell a horribly unfunny joke. That version of him scared her more than the volatile megalomaniac in the diner, and the way his body eased back into the quasi-caring doofus unsettled her.

They drove the rest of the way in silence, and Carol could feel the bubble of relief burst in her when Ed turned into the stadium parking lot. It was already filled, fans clogging the bleachers and sounding off their ritualistic cheers. Carol burst out of the car as soon as he shifted the gear to park. She barely registered the two forms that were hastily tramping towards her. It wasn't until the driver's side door banged open, hitting into the car next to it that Carol focused into what was going on.

Daryl reached into the car, dragging Ed by the collar of his jacket and rammed him against the back door. "What the fuck did you do?!"

"Carol, are you alright?" It was Michonne, standing next to her and pulling her away from the scene. All she could do was glance between her and Daryl, bewildered completely by their presence and the strange distressed look that Michonne was giving her.

"We were waiting for you when Lori and them showed up. She told us what this dickbag did to you at the diner," Michonne threw an accusing finger in Ed's direction.

He was a good few inches taller than Daryl, and his skills as a linebacker came in hand as he managed to get his shoulder against Daryl's chest and he knocked him to the ground. Daryl scrambled up, making up for the size difference with scrappiness. Ed growled at him, positioning himself to knock Daryl back down. Pushing away from Michonne, Carol reached the boys in three quick strides.

"Stop it!" she yelled, putting her hands on Daryl's chest, her back to Ed.

Daryl spat onto the ground, looking passed her to glare at Ed. She pushed him back slightly and the pressure of her fingers against him pulled his gaze to her. "He can't treat you like that," he maintained, trying to reason her into letting him beat Ed into the pulverized lump he deserved to be.

"Daryl," she steadied him, "It's not worth getting yourself hurt over."

Ed scoffed, cracking his neck as he puffed out his chest, "The girl knows how she wants to be treated. She needs a real man to protect her, not some scrawny ass trailer park _nobody_."

Registering the dangerous look that flashed in her blue eyes, Daryl stepped back. Carol spun around, her fist connecting with Ed's nose in a thunderous crack. He stumbled backwards before tripping and falling hard to the ground. The pain bounced back into Carol's fist and she held it to her chest.

"Go to hell, Ed," she snarled, and with her good hand she flipped him her middle finger. Daryl held his arm out for her, pressing gently against the small of her back as they walked towards the stadium bleachers. Ed lumbered to get up with half a mind to follow after the pair.

Moving in quickly to block him, Michonne leveled him back with a stunning glower, "Want to end up on your ass again?" Watching him slink back, Michonne smirked and strolled leisurely to where Daryl and Carol waited for her.


	7. Chapter 7

_You guys, I know I say it like every chapter, but really the love and excitement you guys show for this fic is just amazing. I can't thank you all enough! I hope you like this next chapter :D_

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By the time Michonne makes it back to them Ed had fled to the locker room. He'd tell the rest of the team that his nose was bruised because he beat up some poor Woodburian at the diner. Of course no one had been around to see and could actually attest to his moment of glory, so they'd have to take his word on it.

Standing at the edge of the bleachers they were the last three stragglers as the crowd overflowed in a wave of red and black, pom-poms, bullhorns, and overenthusiastic displays of school spirit. The marching band was stalking around the empty field, starting up the first cacophonous round of fight songs. Carol looked out longingly towards the parking lot, away from the bustling football fans.

"We don't have to stay," Daryl reassured her.

"How exactly are we going to leave?" Michonne countered.

"How'd you get here, 'Chonne?"

"Parents dropped me off, but they're having date night," she rolled her eyes. "They won't be home until eight so I can't call them till after then."

They both turned to Daryl, who shrugged. "I walked."

"It's like ten miles," Michonne gaped.

"I walked fast," he smirked, earning an eye roll from Michonne.

Stuck in between the uproarious fans and the quiet of the parking lot, the three teens fidgeted. Laughter wisped down to them from the row of bleachers above them, and Carol looked up to see Lori, Shane and Rick descending to where they stood.

"Hey," she called without thinking. The trio stopped, waving at her.

"Carol, hey," Rick stepped closer to them. His head tilted slightly to the side as he surveyed her. "Your night turning out okay?"

She nodded happily, "Yeah, much better." She looked towards Lori, mouthing her thanks.

"Good, that's good," Rick said, glancing back quickly towards Lori and Shane before asking, "What are y'all up to now?"

"Kind of trying to figure that out, actually. Don't want to stay here, but we don't exactly have a way home." She shuffled her feet, twisting in her spot between Michonne and Daryl.

Rick's eyes flicked to Michonne in a chanced look before focusing on Carol again, "We're heading to a party…you guys want in?"

"These assholes gonna show up there?" Daryl asked, his thumb pointing towards the field as the players ran out to boisterous applause.

"Yeah," Rick admitted, "Eventually."

Carol bit her lip, the idea of spending more time in any proximity to Ed Jergen churning the half eaten burger that laid in her stomach.

"We'll sit this one out, thanks," Michonne answered, her hand on Carol's back as she stepped in closer to her.

Rick nodded, thoughts wheeling carefully behind his sharp eyes. He walked back to Lori and Shane, whispering to them. Carol caught Lori looking at her, and then sighing in agreement to whatever Rick was telling her. He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, and Shane a hearty pat on the shoulder before returning as the other two moved further into the parking lot.

"Let me drive y'all home then," he said.

When they climbed into his well-worn car, with its dented fender and peeling paint—Carol and Michonne taking the backseat—Daryl asked, "Ain't your girlfriend gonna be mad if you miss the party?"

Rick shook his head as the car shimmied in place, sputtering until it got used to the forward motion and rolled out from the parking spot. "I told her I'd meet up with her later. To be honest, I'm not entirely sure she'll notice."

Daryl didn't respond, chewing on his nail instead. The dusty cloud of silence that filtered through the car was quickly dispersed by an unapologetic rumble.

Rick smirked, eyeing the backseat through the rearview mirror, "Someone's hungry."

"Shut up," Michonne grumbled, sinking down as her knees dug into the back of Rick's seat.

They pulled into the gas station, Rick insisting that the car needed to stay running if they didn't want it to stall. He and Daryl popped into the convenience store after Michonne shoved a few dollars at them. There was a mischievous glint in Rick's eye as the two boys jogged back towards the car. As they hopped back inside, Daryl turned in his seat, tossing a can of soda and a slice of almost warm pie at Michonne. A bag of M&amp;M's landed in Carol's lap and she turned her head to hide her smile, catching Daryl's reflection in the side mirror.

"Hey," Rick said between bites of beef jerky, "You guys want to see something cool?"

For fifteen minutes they drove on an open road, the number of light posts decreasing with every mile until the dim headlights were the only glow in the blackened landscape. Rick pulled off the main highway, the tiny pebbled rocks that they drove over flicking all around them. He stopped in a clearing, shoving the gear in park and swiftly getting out of the car with a proud smile. The stillness of the quarry was a welcomed change from the disquieting football game. Beneath them, surrounded by steep jagged cliffs, a lake shimmered.

Bumping her shoulder into Daryl's as he climbed out of the car, Carol pointed up. A multitude of stars winked, beckoning them to play among their sparkling clusters. It was the kind of night sky that shrank and expanded the universe all at the same time; pulling at the galaxies that lay hidden within the deepest veins as a reminder that the Earth and everything in it was nothing more than stardust.

"How'd you find this place?" Michonne asked, hitching up onto the car's hood.

"My grandfather," Rick explained, walking towards the rock's edge and picking up handfuls of pebbles. "We used to come out here to go fishing in the lake. Not much to catch but it was always quiet. Haven't been here in a long while."

Daryl stared up at the sky, his fingers reaching out to press against Carol's wrist, lingering for just a moment before he went to join Rick's search for palm sized stones. Careful of her dress, Carol scooted on top of the hood next to Michonne. She flopped her head to rest on Michonne's shoulder, feeling them quake with laughter at the howling contest Daryl and Rick were getting into now that all their rocks were properly skipped.

"This is weird isn't it?" she sighed.

"What is?" Michonne asked, digging into the open candy bag that Carol still held onto.

"Me, you, Rick Grimes and Daryl Dixon? If I told you this was going to be our Friday night last week, would you have believed me?"

"Definitely not," she answered plainly, but Carol could still hear the slight grin.

"It's kind of nice. You think we'll all still be friends on Monday?" Carol snorted, trying to hide the hint of genuineness in the question.

"I'm not even sure we're all friends now."

Carol frowned, a disgruntled huff breaking over Michonne's shoulder. Lifting her shoulder so Carol would look up at her, Michonne grinned. "Hey, it's still just us. Everyone else is background noise."

"Yeah," Carol agreed, smiling. Michonne squeezed her fingers around Carol's, interlocking their pinkies and giving a swift pump—the sacred handshake of their promised commitment.

She watched Michonne slide off the car, striding to stand between Rick and Daryl. Michonne's hands cupped around her mouth, her back bending slightly as she let off a howl that bounced off the trees and the rocks until it landed in the deepest parts of their bellies. Outdone, Rick shoved Michonne lightly in the shoulder.

"Come on Grimes, let's see if we can catch some fish," she motioned to the dark water below them, not waiting for his answer as she began to climb down the bluff. Rick followed after, his footing certain even as pebbles rolled from beneath them. Daryl watched them, a part of him doubting they'd actually make it down to the water in one piece. When they were safely splashing through the chilled pool, he turned and joined Carol on top of the car.

Leaning back on the windshield, Daryl pillowed a hand behind his head, the other reaching unapologetically for the M&amp;M's Carol held. Seeing the tips of his fingers moving into her peripheral, Carol pulled the bag away, inching it just barely out of his reach. Not paying attention, his fingers fell short, brushing against the hem of her skirt. He looked over to her, taking in her pursed lips as she shook the bag in the air. The tease hung between them in a sealed moment, hesitation calculating their next move. Daryl drew his hand back, bringing it up to chew on the raw skin. Holding in an unfounded frustration, Carol turned her head up to the sky, looking to clear the strange disappointment that pushed hard against her chest.

Distracted in the swirling, Carol nearly jumped off the car in shock when a strong force locked around her waist. Holding her in place, Daryl rolled towards her, attempting with his free hand to snatch the candy from her but gravely underestimating the strength of her grip. The force of their hands ripped the bag in half, sending the rest of the M&amp;M's on a scattered journey as they rolled off the car and onto the ground, plinking against the gravel. Defeated, Daryl cursed, his head falling to rest against her shoulder blade. Her laughter bounced against him, the effusive sound luring a chuckle of his own. Letting go of her, Daryl fell back to the windshield, watching as she bent over and clutched her ribs. When she calmed down enough to look back at him, he was grinning at her—a genuine smile that stretched farther than the fluttering corners of his lips. It was the brightest thing she had seen that night.

Mimicking his position, Carol settled herself beside him with the glass sturdy against her back. It wasn't missed that the distance between them was growing smaller with each jerk and twist she made. Shoulder to shoulder they stared up at the sky, the heat of their exposed skin making it hard to feel the fall air.

"That one's the North star," he said suddenly, pointing up at the distinct spot. His hand fell back down between them, their fingers colliding and catching together in a haphazard interlock.

"Do you know about other stars?" she asked, her heart beating into her index finger as it lay against the knuckle of his middle finger.

"Just ones that'll keep me from getting lost."

"So you wouldn't know where the constellations are, like Libra or whatever?"

Shaking his head, Daryl murmured, "No, why?"

Shrugging, Carol tried to wave off the question but his staring begged for an answer. "It's my birthday tomorrow, I just thought it'd be cool if we could see it. It's no biggie, Daryl."

"Your birthday's tomorrow?"

Carol nodded, hoping she seemed casual enough.

"Are you…are you doing anything?" his question was uncertain, toeing the line of their boundaries.

"I have plans with Michonne," she answered, a thread of regret lacing through, "And then my dad and I are having dinner together."

"Oh," he said, the warmth of his hand against hers lessening as space found its way between them.

"I mean, it's not anything special. We're just eating at home. He made sure to switch at work for an earlier shift so he could be there. I think he just feels guilty," she explained, unraveling and hoping the hanging threads would lace them back together.

"Guilty for what?"

Her eyes blinked away from him. "It's my first birthday without her."

It was the first of many firsts. Michonne tried to keep it as light as possible, promising a day of distraction and light hearted fun but it still bothered her like a tiny rock stuck in her shoe. She had told him she wasn't mad or sad, and she wasn't. She could illuminate her mother's shadow on any other day that it followed her around, and keep herself proud and happy. When the horrible feelings seeped in like pricking reminders of what she was missing, Carol could box them up and push them far, far away from her. On a day as important as her birthday though, a day usually filled with her mother's blueberry muffins and beaming smile and a surprise adventure that her mother had planned all for her, she wasn't sure an imaginary box could hold her together.

Clumsily, Daryl's hand clambered over hers, clasping and threading together in a strengthening lock. She squeezed his hand in hers, looking back to him and the tenderness of his stare. It covered her like a sanctuary, the fickleness of her heart soothed by his warmth. She wanted to crawl into him, let him cover her like a safety blanket until her confusion cleared. Instead, she closed her eyes, and pressed her forehead against the width of his shoulder.

Slopping sounds of wetness caught their attention, and they both sat up. Carol looked to him, confused by the hard dripping and crumbling they heard. Daryl pressed a finger to his lips, leaning forward as he concentrated on the noise. By the time he had worked it out, Michonne and Rick stood before them, soaked and shivering.

"Who's ready to go home?" Rick asked, a distressed laugh escaping as Carol rushed to Michonne's side. She ran her hands against Michonne's slick skin in a feeble attempt to warm her. Perched on the edge of the hood, Daryl's hand slapped to his forehead.


	8. Chapter 8

_So I gave Michonne a last name, and I totally was inspired by Abbie Mills from the kickass show Sleepy Hollow. Mostly because Abbie Mills and Michonne teaming up in an apocalypse would be the most badass thing ever. And you know I just had to sneak in a cameo of the ZA at some point ;)_

_Anyway my totally tubular friends, we are halfway through this little story! I really hope you like this chapter! It's one that I've been super excited for you guys to read! Thank you so so so much for your continued love and support of this fic!_

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Shivering too hard to drive, Rick had asked Daryl to take the wheel. Michonne huddled up against Carol, dampening her dress as they endured the ride; Rick's car not having any working heat. She was the first to be dropped off, giving Daryl a sympathetic wave as he continued on to take the two underwater explorers, as he insisted on calling them, home.

It seemed like mere minutes had passed between the moments when Carol crawled into bed and when the sun glared through the slits of shade over her window. The morning had come quickly, and she held her breath in a tight ball, listening to the sounds of the house. It creaked with a lazy moan but the click clack of high heels running down the hall to greet her with a morning muffin and ray of sunshine was absent. There was nothing but loud silence to hug her.

She dragged herself from the bed, her bare feet padding down to the kitchen. A quickly scribbled note from her father rested on the table.

_Happy birthday, bug. See you for dinner at 7:00._

Pouring herself a helping of cereal, Carol balanced the bowl on one arm while reaching up for the phone on the wall. Dizzily wrapping the long chord around her as she shoveled her breakfast into her mouth she dialed Michonne's number.

"Happy birthday, best friend!" she shouted on the other end of the receiver.

"You're lucky it was me that called," Carol mumbled between wet bites of sugary flakes.

"Well, I've already wished a happy birthday to my dad's podiatrist and some woman selling nature magazines. Figured I'd have to get it right eventually."

Carol laughed, milk dribbling out of the corner of her mouth. She was the picture of adulthood. Wiping against the shoulder of her sleep shirt, Carol unwrapped from the phone cord to plop the dish down into the sink. "One o'clock?" she asked to Michonne.

"Yep. Meet you there." The line clicked off and Carol let the phone dangle from its perch on her shoulder until she could untangle herself from its vine. She looked at the bowl before waving her arm at it and hurrying back to her bedroom. Eighteenth birthdays were occasion enough to skip washing the dishes.

An hour later Carol found her way onto Main Street, waving to Michonne who was waiting for her at the corner. She wrapped her up in a hug, the dangling parts of her earring hitting against Carol's cheek. Hooking her arm through Michonne's they pranced down the sidewalk.

At the video store Michonne found _St. Elmo's Fire_ and immediately rented it. They browsed the other shelves, commenting on movies they used to love or used to hate and pretended to not have an interest in the children's movies at all. They stopped next at Jacqui's Kitchenette where they bought candy and a greasy order of French fries that Jacqui put in a Styrofoam container for them to take home. Their feet skipped excitedly, bounding off the uneven sidewalk with their goodies in their hands as they made their way to Michonne's house.

She lived in a two story stone blue house with light grey shutters. Her porch had a big wicker couch that she and Carol would sit in and sip sweet tea and homemade lemonade on hot summer days while they swatted away mosquitoes and flipped through Teen Beat magazines. Pots of hanging flowers dangled above the porch fence, the buds wilting now that the air was getting colder. They jumped up the wooden stoop, throwing open the white door as they greeted the inviting house.

Abstract paintings hung from the wall and a sculpture of two naked figures sat on a mantle just inside the doorway. Michonne's mother was an art professor at the local university, and her father was a lawyer. Not overtly rich, but they could afford such luxuries as splotched paint drips on canvases.

"Hi Mrs. Mills," Carol greeted when Michonne's mother met them in the foyer.

"Happy birthday, sweetie," she smiled, cupping Carol's cheek sweetly. Her long black hair was braided and pulled into a knotted ponytail, her wide-legged pants clearly left over from her college days.

"We're gonna watch this in my room, okay Mom?" Michonne waved the VHS at her and Mrs. Mills smirked as they retreated up the stairs.

Michonne's room was like an explosion. Having run out of canvas one afternoon she took to the blank spots of her wall, painting and covering until there wasn't any space left. In the center of a messy bookshelf she had a tiny television with a VCR hooked up to it. Pushing the books off that had piled in front of it, Michonne popped the movie in while Carol unloaded their candy and fries onto the purple carpet where she sat.

By time the credits rolled the two girls were stretched on their backs, grease and sour crystals pooling together in their stuffed bellies. The VCR clicked to the end of the tape and the screen turned to a blinding blue. Carol drew her hand over her tired eyes, rolling to her side to look at Michonne.

"You're stranded on a desert island and you find a magic lamp. The genie inside is a kind of a jerk, but he lets you have one wish for a companion to come live with you on the island and he lets you choose between Judd Nelson, Rob Lowe, and Emilio Estevez. Pick thy poison," Michonne chuckled, dropping a last Sour Patch Kid into her mouth.

"Oh _jeez_ I don't know! That's too hard to choose!" Carol laughed, rolling with a groan on to her stomach

"Bet if I added in Daryl Dixon it wouldn't be such a tough choice, would it?" Michonne teased and Carol's head bolted up to glare at her. "You can't give me that look if your face is going to turn cherry red. The blush never lies!"

Groaning, Carol dropped her face into the carpet, the smell of French fry wafting through the fibers.

"What's going on with you two anyway?"

Carol's shoulders shrugged up as she mumbled into the carpet.

"I have no idea what you're saying, you'll have to be clearer. And don't try to avoid the question and force me to ask him about it instead," Michonne ticked.

Sitting up on her elbows, Carol let out an exaggerated sigh, her curls falling in front of her eyes. "I don't know."

"But you like him right?" Michonne rolled onto her side, holding her head up with a fist.

"I don't know…?" The declaration squeaked into a question and was not the least bit convincing.

"You _do_ know, you just don't want to say it. For whatever reason."

"It's complicated, 'Chonne."

"Why? Because it's Feral Daryl?"

"No—and don't call him that!" her eyes narrowed at her best friend until she held a hand up in surrender.

"Then what gives? You're usually not this closed up," she frowned, picking at a fuzz in the carpet.

"I'd tell you if I knew. But I don't and that's the problem. Everything was all under control until he, I don't know, _happened_. I just can't seem to keep my head in one place long enough to think," Carol's voice softened, her eyes tracking the fuzz as it floated up and away from them.

"I talked to him about my mom," she said quietly, looking at Michonne to gauge her reaction. She held her surprise in well, but not enough to keep her eyebrows from shifting up.

"Is that what's going on?"

Carol sighed, shaking her head out of the dust cloud that tried to swarm around her thoughts, "I can't lose anyone else."

Michonne nodded, sitting up and folding her arms around her knees. She chewed at her bottom lip, looking passed Carol into a faraway void.

"You should tell Daryl you like him," Michonne urged.

Rolling her eyes, Carol looked at her in disbelief, "Will you drop it? He's not exactly the let's-go-steady type."

"He stares at you, Carol. I saw it yesterday at the game and at the quarry. He stares at you like you're something new that's never been discovered before," Michonne pushed against her as if the physical shove would motivate her to do something.

It was true she had felt his eyes on her before, caught him looking at her if she'd turned her head too fast. The feeling it gave her was always a mix of goosebumps jumping across her skin and a calmness hushing her frazzled mind. She didn't know what to say about it, the words not formulating to explain the push and pulling feel this stupid boy with his stupid sleeveless shirts and stupid staring eyes gave her. She blew a raspberry instead, shaking her head and dropping it into her hands.

Michonne pushed herself off the floor in a swift motion. "You think about it," she ordered, crossing in front of Carol to the door of her room.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"To get your birthday present, _obviously_," Michonne stuck her tongue out at her before exiting, her ankle boots beating down the hallway.

Carol sat up, scuffling around until her back leaned against the bottom of Michonne's bed. As she rearranged herself, her hand slipped beneath the bed, landing on a glossy paper. She pulled it out, bringing it up in front of her face. The brochure pictured a beautiful building amidst blossoming cherry trees. A small square featuring the Capitol Building sat in the corner. Carol opened the brochure to see it advertising classes in oil painting, sculpture, and Black American art.

"I wasn't going to tell you because it's really not going to happen but…I put in an application to an art school up North. In D.C."

Despite the crushing squeeze that gripped her stomach Carol smiled, looking up to where Michonne stood in her doorway, a box in her hands wrapped in bright colored paper. "This place looks great, 'Chonne!"

"You could come with me! To D.C., I mean! There's tons of schools you could look at and we can get an apartment in the city and take museum tours every day and maybe meet a senator and yell at him about inequality or something," Michonne rambled as she set the box down and plopped to her knees in front of her.

Carol shook her head, "You know I can't."

"Carol…" her name wrestled its way out of Michonne's mouth. They'd had this conversation before, when the guidance counselor shoved a half dozen brochures into their hands for different colleges in the state and some half way across the country, and Carol had thrown her bundle swiftly in the garbage.

"It would destroy my dad," her mouth painted into a thin line. "I won't abandon him too."

The quiet stumbled passed them in slow, staggering seconds. Carol could feel Michonne's soft fingers clutch around her forearms, rubbing lightly.

"Georgia State's still my top pick though. I can't get into the D.C. one anyway, I just put the application in as a joke," Michonne said trying to stabilize the mood.

"Any school that doesn't take you is trash. Literally a garbage dump," Carol smirked at her and Michonne smiled.

"I'd come back though, you know that right? I'd come back for you." Michonne's brown eyes, bottomless in their depth, as she searched Carol to make sure she understood. Carol nodded, holding her pinky out for Michonne to twirl her own around and shake.

"Alright, alright. Open your present!" she grabbed the box, shoving it into Carol's arms and bouncing delightfully on her knees. Carefully, Carol unwrapped the paper and opened the top to reveal a bundle of pages held together with ribbon. On the cover was a drawing of her and Michonne, bloodied and fiercely posed as she carried a trench knife and Michonne wielded a katana. Disfigured bodies followed them in the background, and a dozen more laid dead at their feet.

"It's a comic!" Michonne explained giddily. "Remember when we snuck out last Halloween and went to see _Day of the Dead_, and we got so freaked out that we had to tell each other stories of how actually badass we'd be in a zombie apocalypse? I wrote it down and drew them! Took me forever."

Carol's lips grew wide into an astonished smile, "Michonne! This is the coolest thing I've ever seen. Like, I can't stop looking at it!" She flung her arms around her, careful not to curl the pages.

At half past six, Michonne's parents insisted they drive Carol home so she wouldn't have to take the bus. She sat in the backseat of their station wagon with her hand drawn comic on her lap. Mr. and Mrs. Mills had a bag waiting for her and she rifled through it to find two books and a birthday card. It made her feel warm and light, and she thanked them profusely for even thinking of her. Filled with a giddy kind of love, she got out of the car when they pulled up to her house, and watched from the sidewalk as they drove off. When she turned, her heart stopped entirely before beating with such rapid excitement that she thought Daryl must be able to hear it from where he sat on her stoop.

"Hey," she smiled at him, walking gingerly up the pathway. He stood, meeting her halfway, shifting from one foot to the other.

"Happy birthday," he blurted and looked away from her.

"Thanks," she said, trying to hold in a giggle and failing.

"What'd you get?" Daryl pointed at the papers in her hand. She flipped it around so he could see, the red words that dripped at the bottom labeling it _Queens of the Apocalypse_, making him laugh. "That's pretty fuckin' sweet."

She hummed happily, placing the comic carefully in the bag with Michonne's parents' gift. Something prodded at her, and Carol looked at Daryl to find him holding a small, plain brown box.

"It's for you," he mumbled, the words squishing together as if he had to force them out in one great breath before they decided to stay inside him forever.

Her heart leapt, bouncing around her organs like a pinball as she took the box from him. "You didn't have to get me anything."

Daryl shrugged, trying to maintain nonchalance while his face burned from the heat of uncertainty. He took a tiny step away from her, as if the distance might help the fever that was encasing him. She started to open the box, stopping suddenly to smirk at him. "I'm not going to find a bunch of M&amp;M's in here, am I?"

He laughed slightly, the sound like a shifting breeze that blew passed her, making the air feel strange. Seeing his nervous twitching—the ever increasing tapping of his fingers against the side of his legs—Carol decided to put him out of his misery. She opened the box to see two tiny studs winking at her. The world became so quiet that she was sure she could hear the Earth spinning in its orbit, the whooshing rushing through her ears and pounding deep in her gut. Everything was so very still as the little starbursts that she held in her hand glittered against their rough packaging. He was saying something but her heart had started to pound so profusely, pumping every blood vessel she had so her veins were drumming out loud beats, that she couldn't hear him.

"What?" she said, flickering her eyes between the earrings and his squinting gaze. She stared at him, at those little blue eyes that held something in them for her, a flaming heat trickled from the top of her head all the way down to her toes.

"They were my mom's. A couple of things made it through the fire and these were one of them. I thought since you said your mom had taken her earrings from you that you could have these," he explained, tiptoeing around each word, every breath waiting for her reaction.

Her mouth was slightly open, her eyes big and wide as she contemplated the earrings again before blinking back up to him. "Daryl…I…this is…are you sure?"

He nodded, watching as her thumb ran over the gold backings gently. "They're not real, they're not what you deserve but, I don't know, guess I figured you should still have something to remember her. Even if it's just pretend."

He was so desperately quiet, like if he could make his voice small enough the whole thing would pass over him and he could forget it was happening. Carol felt an excruciating ache, her whole body exploding with a need to twirl into the sky and never ever come back down. She held his gaze, so full of worry and wonder because he'd never seen someone look at him like that before. She reached for him and Daryl leaned back, sure that the heat of his skin would burn her like it was burning him. He cooled when she touched him, her hand against his heart.

"I don't know how to thank you," she said quietly.

"Don't have to thank me, just have to wear them…if you want."

"They're beautiful."

Carol leaned up, swaying on her tip toes until she was almost leaning against him. He steadied her with a hand on her hip. Gently, she pressed her lips to his cheek and felt the shock that jolted into her sleeping nerves. His fingers curled, tightening against the band of her skirt. She placed her cheek against his, drinking in the invigoration as they floated together beneath the dawning night sky. She pulled away from him, coming back down. They stared at each other, not being able to name all the feelings that bolted through them and not sure they wanted to name them at all.

"Do you want to stay for dinner?" she offered quickly in a rush of embarrassment that crashed into her so suddenly that she didn't know if it would be worse if he said yes or no.

"Can't," he chewed at his lip, "Gotta cover another shift for Merle. Jackass is still passed out on the couch."

"Okay," she smiled at him anyway, "I'll see you around?"

"Yeah," he leaned towards her, and Carol could feel the fluttering flaps of her straining heart. She was sure it was going to give out if he got any closer. He stopped, moving backwards in slow motion until he was all straightened out. He pushed a handful of curls behind her shoulder, before patting her there like a friend from a long time ago who didn't know how to say goodbye. She could swear she heard him cursing to himself as he passed her, scratching his head as he turned out of her gate. He looked back once, and she waved to him, the tiny studs pressed against her heart where they belonged.


	9. Chapter 9

_I can't thank you guys enough for your continued enthusiasm for this story! It completely blows me away :) So this chapter sets up a few things for what's coming in the next few chapters. I hope you guys are excited for what's next!_

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Carol huffed her way out the door, dragging a garbage bag behind her. It grew heavier with each step, and a thorn from Ed's rose stuck out of the black bag. Her father had commented at dinner the night before that the date must have gone well, because Jergen had let him out a whole hour early with a smile and telling him to wish his daughter a happy birthday. When he asked if she thought she'd see Ed again she shook her head.

"You were right, Dad," she told him, holding back the tiny smile that tried to push across her face, "I think he realized I'm not really his type."

When she made it to the metal can at the foot of her walkway her arms were tired. She muttered incoherently to herself as she lifted the bag up and tossed it in. The lid clanged down, sealing the trash away and she wiped her hands against each other with quick smacks.

"Carol!" a little voice squeaked and she peeked over the fence.

"Hey, Glenn," she grinned softly at the boy as he sat on the sidewalk. His sweatshirt was too big for his little body and the baseball cap sat practically sideways on his head but he hadn't seemed to notice. Surrounded by chalk, he was too concentrated on his drawings.

"Come look," he said.

"What have you got there?"

Carol walked over to him. There was a purple dragon and a green castle with a little pink princess inside of it. He looked up at her, squinting as the sun was still shining bright and high in the sky. She fixed his cap so it served its actual purpose and shielded his eyes from the glare.

"Thanks," he nodded, before pointing at his drawing, "It's a princess. My sisters keep watching _Sleeping Beauty_ but I don't like it very much. It's not fair that the princess has to sleep through all the fun parts."

"Oh yeah?" she chuckled, but he looked very serious so she hid it behind the sleeve of her sweater. "So what's your princess doing?"

"I think she's gonna fight the dragon."

"What if she becomes friends with the dragon instead?" Carol suggested, squatting down to his level. "Sometimes we think something is all big and mean when they're not at all. They're just hiding how good they are because it's too scary to be themselves."

His face lit up like he was just given the biggest revelation of his young life. "And then, the princess and the dragon can ride around together and destroy all the other castles!"

He pumped his little fists in the air excitedly before putting the chalk to the rough sidewalk and squiggling new lines into his fairy tale drawing. She was lost in watching him shift to a new square of cement to draw the princess riding on the dragon, a sword held high in the air as they breathed fire onto an unsuspecting village.

"Carol," Glenn whispered, his fingernail raking across her knee.

She raised her eyebrows at him so he'd know she was listening. He pointed up to the end of the sidewalk with a piece of purple chalk. "You're not-boyfriend is here."

"What?" She looked up, face contorted in confusion to see Daryl walking towards them with that strangely confident saunter he had at times. He jutted his chin out towards her.

As he got closer she stood, her mouth rebelling against her orders to stay calm and collected by spreading into a wide smile.

"Hey," she said when he reached them.

"You babysitting?" he asked, looking down towards Glenn who stared up at him from his cross legged position.

"Oh, no, I was just…hanging out…" She could have kicked herself. She didn't need him thinking that she voluntarily hung out with seven year olds.

"So you're free?"

"Actually I'm supposed to meet Michonne in like an hour at Smooth Tunes. Want to come?"

"Alright," Daryl nodded, rolling his shoulder through a casual shrug.

"Awesome! Totally cool!"

The exclamations spewed from her in a somersault that made her cringe. A smile ghosted across his expression as they stood staring at each other. Daryl's eyebrows raised in question and she hopped to attention.

"Right…I'll just go grab my bag. You stay here," she ordered, waving her fingers weakly at Glenn as she ran back into her house.

Daryl could feel little eyes on him, and he looked back down to see Glenn giving him a very stern expression.

"Don't be out too late," the child said seriously and Daryl grunted out a huff of air through his nose, nodding in agreement with the boy.

The sounds of Frank Sinatra filled the main floor of Smooth Tunes. The record Tyreese had put on was one of his favorites, evident from all the skips and scratches that invaded the melody. Still, Carol and Michonne found themselves bouncing along to the familiar song as they walked in for the monthly Sunday sale.

"Well if it isn't my favorite girls. Been waiting for you two!" Tyreese smiled at them, popping out from behind a stack of records.

They waved their hellos as he walked over to him, his hammer swinging expertly in his hand. Something crashed behind them, and Carol looked back to see a pile of cassettes scattered around Daryl's feet.

"Shit," he cursed, reaching down hurriedly to scoop up the cassettes and carelessly toss them on top of a pile of records.

Carol shook her head, pursing her lips against a smile and taking the remaining cassettes from his hand and putting them where they belonged, along with the others that he had haphazardly thrown.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

"It's not my store," she smiled at him. "You don't have to apologize to _me_."

"And who are you, Captain Chaos? Knocking down all my shit…don't think I didn't see you!" Tyreese pointed the head of the hammer towards Daryl.

Daryl huffed, his eyes narrowing, back hunched like a cornered cat. Tyreese didn't back off, filling out to his full size as much as Daryl had, his dark eyes swallowing him up in careful consideration. Carol looked unsteadily between the two but Daryl didn't flinch despite Tyreese being at least twice his width.

Tyreese broke finally, grinning and wild laughter sounding out of him. "Your boy's good, Carol."

"Thank you!" she said proudly. She caught Daryl's face, his nose scrunched up and mouth turned into a slight frown and quickly added on, "But he's not mine. Like we don't…we aren't…I mean…"

"Mhm," Tyreese hummed, unconvinced at Carol's floundering explanation. His eyes flicked to Michonne who gave him a perceptive glance before deftly flicking her fingers through a crate of marked down records.

"Daryl, this is Tyreese," Carol finally settled, deflating entirely during her introduction. Tyreese held his hand out and Daryl grabbed it in a strong grip, shaking it with a hard force.

"Real good," Tyreese commented, smoothing back into his natural state of relaxation.

"Tyreese!" Michonne yelled, her mouth forming an offended 'O' as she pulled out a dusty 45. "99 Luftballoons does not belong in the fifty cent sale. It is a treasure and should be marked _up_ if anything."

"I think I know what's good and what isn't. But if that's how you feel baby girl, maybe you oughta take it home with you," he grinned. He knocked his index finger gently against Carol's chin, winking as he turned from them and slipped behind the counter to fix the display he had been working on. He was hammering posters and sleeves onto the wall, featuring a mixture of Salt-n-Pepa and The Go-Go's.

"Guess I will," Michonne muttered, moving further down the wall to browse the last few crates.

Carol could feel the blush of her cheeks as a nervous laugh trickled out of her. Daryl grunted beside her, his mouth grumbling incoherently.

"Come on," she wrapped her fingers around his forearm, dragging him to the back corner where the lesser loved records were kept.

They browsed the aisle together, Daryl paying no attention to the records as she flicked them forward rapidly. She went through them so quickly that he couldn't read the titles even if he cared to. They moved from crate to crate, listening to Michonne's scowling commentary about almost every record she looked at. She certainly had a lot of opinions and Tyreese hummed in response, the tap tap tapping of his hammer following the beat of whatever song was playing.

Carol had drifted off, rummaging deeper into one of the bigger crates. Daryl leaned against a row of albums, watching the way she considered the records, holding them up and inspecting them before sliding them back gently, like she was afraid to hurt them. He was sure he could see her whispering that she was sorry to the ones she discarded. After too many long minutes where he pretended to look at the shelf instead of her, he joined her at the crates.

"You buying anything?" he asked more roughly than he meant.

"I think so," she pulled a record out of the crate, inspecting it further. It was an old jazz standard he had never heard of, or if he had, he certainly didn't know the name of. "Found it hidden under a pile of old stuff. It just kind of seemed forgotten about and that made me kind of sad for it."

She shrugged, flipping the record over in her hand. "Let's go," she nodded towards the counter where Tyreese and Michonne were arguing over the arrangement of his record display.

Carol put the record up with her dollar. Tyreese inspected it, like he did every record and cassette he sold, giving a brief and sometimes biased judgement about who was buying it. "You never cease to amaze me, my sweet Carol."

She had to cast her eyes sideways to try and control her blush, and could distinctly hear Daryl scoff behind her.

"You know," he said suddenly, looking between the three teens. "I understand that Wednesday nights are school nights for y'all but if you can, you should come down to Axel's. I'm playing a show there at around 8 o'clock."

"We'll be there," Michonne answered, grinning wickedly at Carol.

She squirmed a little, the idea of having to sneak out (although she wasn't sure if it qualified as sneaking out if her dad wouldn't even be home) twisting her stomach up into a tight ball. She looked to Daryl, not really knowing why his reassurance would soothe her, but when she did and saw the minute nod of his head, her stomach settled just slightly.

"Great," Tyreese drummed against the counter, sliding Carol's change back to her. "I'll make sure we play some decent stuff then."

"I know Axel's," Daryl said on their way out, holding the door open for the two girls. "It ain't a bad place. My brother hangs out there sometimes, but he says it's boring. Which means it's probably filled with semi-decent people."

Carol laughed, folding her arms tight around herself, her new record locked tightly between her chest and forearm. "I guess it'll be okay. You'll definitely go?"

Daryl nodded, then rolled his neck from side to side, forcing a yawn out of his mouth as if the nod was more of a lazy show of compliance, "I mean if I'm not doing much else."

"So that's a yes," Michonne said sharply.

A roar of thunder rolled across the sky, interrupting their conversation. They looked up to see a dark cloud surging towards them, no doubt bringing with it the kind of hard and fast rainstorm that peppered the South in its wet season.

Michonne began to take small steps towards her street, yelling back to them, "You guys gonna get home okay?"

"We'll be fine," Carol shouted back, pushing Daryl towards the other end of the street. They walked together quickly to the corner.

Carol stalled, staring in awe as they crossed to the side street that would take them closer to her house.

"What?" Daryl asked, his voice rushing with the need to get indoors.

"Look," she pointed, watching as the rain began to pelt against the opposite side of the street. For a brief window of time they were bathed in the glow of the sun, still dry as the storm hadn't caught up to them. "It's like the sun's shining just for us"

"I don't think I'm anyone's reason for sunshine," Daryl grunted dryly.

"You're mine," she smiled, and it seemed like the sun was shining straight through her and warming up his insides. She took his hand, weaving her fingers through his in an expert fit. He looked down at their hands, joined together and wiggled his fingers against hers like he was making sure it was really _his_ hand that she was holding. He looked perplexed but pleased, the corners of his mouth quirking as his eyes trailed slowly up to meet hers. Tugging him, they ran down the street together, the rain drawing closer with each step of their jointed run.


	10. Chapter 10

_Thank you guys so so so much! I'm sorry I didn't have time to reply to any of your reviews but I read them all and they all made me ridiculously giddy! I'm going to be traveling for the next two weeks so this is going to be the last chapter until I get back (hence why I've been so busy since Monday). But I leave you with a little playlist I made of songs that inspired this fic! You can listen to at (__8tracks*com/stephanooch/the-sunny-side-of-you-me)__ if you want to :) Really though I can't thank you guys enough for the continued love and support you show this story! Love you all!_

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As they reached the corner of her street the storm had seized them, soaking straight through every thread of clothing they had but not managing to dampen their spirits. They ran with their hands clasped straight up to her front door, the sound of laughter louder than any thunder the storm could muster up. Carol's hair was frizzed and matted against her face. She wiped the sopping curls to the side, squinting up at him against the hard splashing drops.

Daryl tried to say his goodbye but the rain was pounding too loudly against the pavement. He put one foot down onto her next step so he could leave, but she stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Come in!" she shouted, pulling him back gently.

He looked between her and the street, the rain creating a grey like fog with its relentless downpour that he couldn't see through. He knew what would happen if he chanced the rain and walked home, but venturing into Carol's house, crossing _that_ threshold, meant uncharted waters that he didn't know if he could navigate. Her hand was steady on his shoulder, guiding him as minutely as she could towards the house. Huffing, he relinquished to her, following her through the front door and slamming it shut against the invading wind.

Standing in a wet puddle as Carol slid through the living room and ran up the stairs, he could feel the discomfort of his clothes clinging to him. Even his socks were soaked and squishy, resulting in a loud squelch when he shifted his weight on his feet. Carol came back down a few seconds later, a pile of cream colored towels blocking her view. She tossed one to him and threw another down on the floor where she attempted to sop up the puddles that were left behind.

"Here," she said, setting down a smaller pile next to him. It was a pair of grey sweatpants and a dull maroon t-shirt with the words English Department in gold letters.

When he didn't move, Carol sighed, taking the wet towel from him. "They're my dad's. You're going to need something to wear while I dry your clothes. Unless you want to sit around my house naked."

"No thanks," he said quickly, hopping on one foot to pull his boot off.

"Alright then," she smiled, "Just leave your wet clothes on top of this towel so I can throw it all in the dryer." She disappeared again up the staircase.

In her room, Carol redressed in an oversized cut-off black sweatshirt and lime green leggings, her wet hair towel-dried and tossed up high on her head in a loose and messy bun. There was a knock at her door. She opened it, biting her lip to hold in a laugh. The sweatpants dragged over his feet, and the shirt's collar sat low from being stretched out over the years. He had the same sadly defeated expression as Glenn did when she wouldn't let him have ice cream for dinner.

"Feel better?" she asked, taking the pile of wet clothes that he held out to her. She moved out of his way so he could enter her room.

He itched his side, obviously uncomfortable in the clothes and she smiled slightly, hurrying to the end of the hallway that held their washer and dryer. She threw everything in except for the leather vest which she hung up on a rod above the dryer. She slammed the door shut and cranked the dial, waiting for the tell-tale rattling before she went back to her room.

"So I guess you're stuck here for a bit!" she said, rolling up on the balls of her feet as she teetered in the doorway. "Hope you didn't have any plans."

"Not really," he shrugged, chewing on his thumb. "I was just bringing my brother's bike into the shop. I told him I could tune it up but he's being an asshole. Started hollerin', saying he ain't ever gonna let me touch that bike with a ten foot pole. Then he made me take it to the shop. Fuckin' hypocrite is what he is."

"Sorry." She winced at his casualness, the way he waved off his brother's attitude.

Taking a step further into her room she realized with a cringe just how juvenile it might all seem to him. There were pictures ripped out from Teen Beat and taped onto her wall, some of actors and singers and others of clothes and hairstyles she liked. Her dresser was a mish mash of old tubes of lipstick, beaded necklaces that she borrowed from Michonne and a pile of pink tulle from when she tried to make her own skirt. Books were strewn carelessly around the room. She was always reading at least four at once. A small, well-loved polar bear squished between her pillows inches away from where Daryl sat.

"Guess it's a good thing I'm not home. Merle ain't exactly pretty when he's in one of his moods."

She pursed her lips together, eyes glinting as she teased, "I didn't know Merle was ever pretty."

Daryl snorted, his shoulders bracing up in a chuckle. She plopped onto the edge of the bed, close enough to lean forward, and grab at his sleeve to rub the material of the old t-shirt between her fingers.

"Looks so weird."

"What does?" he asked, self-consciously pulling away from her.

"You in sleeves. I'm just so used to seeing your arms all the time. You kind of look cut off," she laughed, relaxing back to her corner of the bed.

Daryl looked down, eyeing both his shoulders. He rolled up the short sleeves until he was exposed, "Better?"

"Much!" She flowed over him, her gaze simmering at the dips and curves of his muscles until she couldn't look much longer. Casting her eyes downwards, her fingers fidgeting in her laps, she asked, "So why'd you come by today?"

"Am I not allowed to walk in my neighborhood?" he mumbled, puffing air through his nose.

"Of course you are, it's just…it seemed like you were maybe…looking for…me?" she looked up at him, an anxious glint flashing across her eyes.

He swallowed, sliding his tongue across his bottom lip. "I was."

"What'd you want?" she asked, flicking back down to gaze at her fingers as they twisted the end of her sweatshirt, needing to hold onto something because her head was spinning too fast.

"Wanted to see you," his voice was clipped, mumbled as he chewed at his fingernails.

She smiled at her lap, feeling a heat ignite against her knee. Looking up she saw his hand on it as he leaned forward. A panic rose in her as his face drew closer to hers and she didn't know if she should close her eyes and pucker or just stay in the stuck gaping position that she was.

"Can I look at this? Or it is in some kind of secret Girl Code or something?" he said, snatching up the comic Michonne had made for her and leaning back against the bed with it.

She breathed a sigh of relief, slightly mortified that she thought he was going to kiss her. Though she wondered what it would feel like, probably tender and cautious with the slightest hint of roughness, just like his hands were.

"You can read it," she answered, looking up to see that he already had started.

"Do you even how to use a knife?" he laughed, brows raising as he teased her.

"Don't underestimate me, Dixon," she said, pulling up so her neck elongated and she looked very serious. "There are lots of things I know how to do."

"Like build a fire? Track down a deer to eat? Do you know which side of the tree moss grows on?" he tested her.

She sagged into the bed, a sigh trebling out of her lips as she admitted, "Okay maybe I don't know how to do any of that…but I could take out a zombie or two."

"Doubt it, but, maybe we should work on some other skills then," he contemplated her, nodding to himself as he flipped through the hand drawn pages.

Carol rolled her eyes, her arms drawing across her chest and folding, "Are you a boy scout now?"

"Something like that."

Huffing, she looked around the room, mocking his tone as she mumbled to herself. She pushed off the bed, walking the few steps to her radio on the dresser. Turning it on, she tried to tune through the static until the symphonic riffs of a guitar could be heard. She hadn't noticed that he had put the comic down on her bedside table or that he lifted off the bed soundlessly, not one spring creaking as he moved quietly towards her. Suddenly he grabbed her around the waist, hauling her up and pinning her down to the bed with incredible strength.

Hovering over her he smirked, "Yeah you _definitely_ don't know how to take out a zombie."

"That was cheating!" she yipped, her hand pushing against his solid chest and shoulders.

"Was not!"

"Zombies are all lumbering and gawky, I'd hear them a mile away. You were all sneaky and quiet," her words rushed together, quieting as she watched his eyes drift across her face, flicking down to her lips. She felt dizzy and focused all at once. His hand went up to her ear, the tip of his finger running gently across the tiny stud she had been wearing since the night before, shocking her as his touch glided against the fuzz of her skin.

"They look nice," he said, low and husky like the words were carried by his breath alone and he had no control over them.

"Thank you," she said, stumbling over the way the weight of his body felt along hers, and not imagining the way he leaned closer. He gulped, and drew away slightly. There was a loss that made her chest pound against her bones, urging her to do something. She couldn't live with the aching disappointment of missed opportunities. Drawing her hand up to his shoulder tucked beneath the sleeve that had rolled down, she leaned up slightly. A knot in her stomach stopped her, pressing down hard on her belly as every nerve in her body tingled with uncertainty. Before she could brace herself and push up the rest of the way, a clang from the bottom floor brought her crashing back down to reality.

"My dad," she whispered, sitting up and forcing him back to the corner of the bed.

"Is he gonna be mad?" Daryl asked, watching as she leapt from the bed and scurried around the room.

"I don't know," she said, almost laughing, "I've never exactly had the opportunity to find out how he feels about boys in my room."

"Maybe we shouldn't find out tonight," Daryl winced as the worn voice called out for her.

"Hey Dad!" she yelled, opening the door to her room ever so slightly and waving for Daryl to get back.

"What are you doing home honey? I thought you'd be out with Michonne today."

"Oh, yeah," she forced out a chuckle, "I just decided to go home with that storm and all."

"That was a good idea, bug. It's clear out now, though. Nice sunset too." He paused. "Everything okay up there? Sounds like your scuffling?"

Daryl looked around the room, and she eyed him sharply so he'd stop moving and creaking all the floorboards. "My shoes," he mouthed to her and she smacked her hand to her forehead.

"Downstairs," she mouthed back.

His eyes went wide, shoulders hunched up and arms waving wildly with a need to know what exactly she wanted him to do.

"Go out the window," she whispered, motioning towards the small window that sat above her bed. He cocked his head to the side, glaring at her. She pushed him towards it, adding quickly, "I'll meet you at the front door." He disappeared behind the blind with a crash.

She winced, running out of the room and hopping down the stairs.

"Hey, kiddo, what's your rush?" her father asked, smiling warmly at her.

"You know I'm so dumb sometimes, Dad. I accidentally threw something in the trash, and I need it for school, so I'm just gonna go outside and look for it," she lied smoothly, scooping up Daryl's boots from behind the door before her father had noticed and holding them in one hand behind her back. "Be right back," she smiled at him, slipping back out the front door without turning around.

Daryl waited, his feet curled up in the cold wet grass. She handed him the boots, chancing a look back to make sure her father wasn't near any of the windows.

"What about my clothes?" he asked, shoving his feet into the still wet and squishy shoes, cringing at the way they squelched when he set his foot down.

"I'll give them to you at school tomorrow," she pushed him towards the fence, hurrying him off the grass. "Go! Before he comes out here!"

Daryl smiled at her, intrigued by her frenzy. The amusement he held, like he almost wanted to laugh at her but found her to be too endearing, pulled out a smile of her own. They grinned at each other over the threshold of the fence, waiting almost a second too long as the screen door squeaked open.

"Carol?" her father called.

"Coming," she said softly, stepping backwards until she lost sight of Daryl running down the street, the setting sun tracking him like a spotlight.


	11. Chapter 11

_Hi everyone! I'm back :) I hope you all had an amazing two weeks, and that the return of this fic marks the beginning of an awesome weekend ahead! Thank you so much for all your incredible support it means the world to me!_

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Carol had overestimated the girth of her locker and trying to shove the tatty black jeans, dark blue flannel and leather vest into it was proving to be difficult. The vest sprung out at her for the third time, leaping into her arms and it took all her calm composure to not toss it onto the ground and stomp on it. Removing some of her things, she decided it would be easier to walk around with a mile high pile of books than the vest. It fit happily now, tucked into the corner as she forced the locker shut and whisked away to homeroom, the heap of books clutched precariously in her arms.

It wasn't a sure thing that Daryl would show up to school today, but she was hoping he would do so early on. She could just hear the rumors building up around her the longer his clothes sat, cleaned and pressed, in her locker. In reality, she knew he would probably make his appearance after school, leaning against his brother's motorcycle. Maybe a slight breeze would sigh passed him, rustling his hair in the wind, and his arms would be flexed but casually so. Carol lifted her chin up from her perch atop her books, shaking out of her daydream and trying to focus on homeroom. But it was so utterly boring, and the straining ridges of Daryl's arms called from her imagination for the remaining twenty five minutes.

Meandering her way out of homeroom and walking unsteadily to her next class, she was called from behind. She craned her neck back, careful not to stop short in front of anyone, and found Daryl walking towards her.

"What are you doing?" he asked, shaking his head as she squinted up at him from behind the books. Wordlessly he took the top three books, holding them easily in one hand.

Her brows cinched together, not quite wanting his help but not denying the giddiness she felt from it. Ridiculous, stupid stomach fluttering.

"Thanks! I'm surprised to see you," she teased, strolling with him towards the end of the hall. Students gave him a wide berth so he never needed to side step and shuffle around blocks of people who didn't notice him. He wasn't nearly as invisible as he sometimes felt, and even he couldn't deny the shadow of Merle's reputation that parted paths for him.

"I had to come, didn't I? Since you decided to hold my clothes hostage and all," he smirked at her.

"I'm not '_holding them hostage_'," she grumbled, peaking a glance at him from the corner of her eye.

Daryl snorted, "Well I'm ready to negotiate an exchange after," he brought his free hand up to his face, squinting at the scrawled writing on his palm, "eighth period."

"Is that your class schedule?" she balked, taking hold of his hand and drawing it closer to her. She examined the peaks and dips of his messy scribble, taking note of their shared lunch period.

"Yeah I had to get the main office to tell me it. I don't think I've been here passed third yet this year."

"We both have math now, across the hall from each other. And we have lunch together," she returned his hand to him, leading him down the perpendicular hall and pointing to their respective classrooms.

They stood at the center, students jostling her as they hurried past. Feeling exposed, enlightened to the public forum that high school so often conducted itself as, they only allowed a stiff sigh and slight grin to count as their goodbye before parting to the opposite rooms. When Carol looked up from her desk he was sitting right in her view, looking straight at her with a smirk like he knew she'd be waiting for his glance.

Math carried on as it tended to do, numbers and letters blending into one carefully pieced together language. Every now and then Carol would peek at the room across the hall, and sometimes Daryl would be looking back at her. They'd both smile, shake their heads and try not to laugh. She liked it better though when he wasn't sharing her glance, when he was paying attention to the teacher. He seemed genuinely intent on the material, even if he didn't have any books (except hers that he had held onto) she could see the cogs turning in his mind absorbing the lesson. His mouth would draw into a straight determined line and he'd look down at his hands where he'd mime something onto the desk, concentrate on the invisible numbers and then nod to himself when he had it figured out. It was the secret glimpses of who he was when no one looked that she liked to hold onto best.

The end of the day found her leaning against her locker, keeping it closed against its bulging threat to pop open. Michonne and Daryl had their last period together, and had told her they'd meet her here. She stared down the hallway, waiting as she bounced on her toes when Andrea approached her with a cheerful wave.

"Hey, Carol. Aren't you going to miss the bus?" she asked, which Carol would normally find to be intrusive, but Andrea always sounded genuine even when she was gossiping.

"Oh I have a ride home today, actually."

"From Daryl?" Andrea smiled slyly, and it made Carol's stomach stretch into a growing pit.

"Why would you think that?" she asked careful to keep her tone as casual as possible in the face of jittery anxiety.

"Come on, Carol. Everyone saw him with you and Michonne at lunch, all buddy-buddy. Plus you have his vest in your locker for some mysterious reason."

Carol whipped around, half expecting the locker door to be made of glass and exposing everything to the throngs of exiting students. It was still the same rusty red metal.

Andrea suppressed a laugh, "Don't have a cow, I saw you trying to shove it in this morning. Whatever, I think it's cute, you and Dixon. In your own weird way. And if anyone doesn't, then the hell with them, you know? They're all bogus phonies anyway." She grave a tiny shrug of her shoulder, patting Carol on the back before walking out the main entrance.

She thought about it as she finally spotted Michonne and Daryl walking towards her, about why she was so hard-pressed about people thinking they were together. It wasn't that she was ashamed of him, or afraid of what they'd think. She'd happily risk popularity for Daryl's friendship. In fact, she realized it didn't have to do with other people at all. But if they knew, if _other_ people suspected, then that must mean her feelings weren't made up. She'd have to be honest with herself and realize that Daryl Dixon had become to mean so much more to her than she could have ever possibly guessed—and in that laid the fear that maybe he couldn't say the same.

She had actually been ready to kiss him the other night, and find out if he tasted like cigarettes and chocolates like she hoped he would. A week ago they had barely registered to each other, he was nothing more than the recluse who she slightly feared, but so much had happened since then and she found out that his hands were used much more to comfort than cripple. Still, she wouldn't allow the flittering that skimmed her stomach and wafted through her lungs, leaving her breathless from ridiculous fancies, to saunter its way out of her tongue.

She'd decided to keep it to herself, her feelings for him, that way it was safely tucked away like a long lost treasure where no one could tamper with it. The sticky feeling that filled her like honey was all hers for now, and it never had to sour from rejection. Even though he was caring and gentle and tender and a thousand other synonyms for the things he did that weakened her knees, he was risky. Daryl didn't like being close to anyone, and she figured if he ever realized just how close they had actually become he'd scamper far, far away. She knew better than anyone that feelings could whip in the other direction at any given time. It was so easy to extract pain from love. The whole thing was like a slow, wonderful agony.

"Here," Carol said when they reached her, popping open her locker without even a glance to see who was coming down the hallway, and handing Daryl over the pile of clothes.

They walked out to where Daryl's grey pick-up was parked. He had offered at lunch to drive them home and they had enthusiastically agreed. With the weather growing rainier and colder more people took the bus and the overcrowding was something they'd rather avoid, even if the sun was still bright and shining when they went outside.

"So, how was your first day of school, Daryl?" Michonne teased once they had climbed in, Carol sitting the middle of the long bench seat.

Shrugging, his fingers mumbling his mouth, Daryl said, "I might try it again tomorrow."

"Someone call the press! Daryl Dixon, Mr. Literally-Too-Cool-For-School, is going to break his truancy record by attending school two days in a row!" Michonne shouted out the window, which was broken and didn't roll up all the way.

Daryl rolled his eyes and tried to swat her, his arm shooting out across Carol. Michonne blocked him, almost hitting her in the face.

"Alright!" Carol laughed, grabbing both their hands and holding them down to her side. "That's enough."

Michonne glanced out of the side of her eyes, before smirking at Carol when she noticed the way her and Daryl's fingers had automatically interlaced. Carol dug her knuckles into Michonne's thigh, wordlessly pleading with her until Michonne exaggeratedly turned her head to look out the window. Not being able to take the sudden heat radiating from her belly onto her skin and permeating the air around her, Carol leaned forward suddenly to dig with great fervor through her knapsack. Daryl's now unoccupied fingers scratched at his knee through a hole in his pants. Carol sat back, her hair almost flipping into her comrades' faces as she pulled it up into a high ponytail with the purple scrunchie she had found. Michonne blew a raspberry, picking a curl away from her mouth

"Hot in here, huh?" Carol said, her cheeks flushed and earning her a double dose of side-eye from both Daryl and Michonne.

They pulled up to Michonne's soon after. She leaned into the window, where Carol had scooched closer to and gave her a mischievous wink. Carol shoved her away from the window and Michonne sauntered away, skipping up the steps and waggling her fingers at them before she disappeared into the house.

"You really have to go home right now?" Daryl asked, slowly pulling the car away from the sidewalk.

"I mean, I have some homework but I don't have to do it _right_ now."

"Alright, good."

She waited for a further explanation but none came.

"So where are we going?" she finally asked as he turned away from Main Street and onto the lone, winding highway.

"Can't tell ya till we get there," the corners of his mouth quirked up, clearly enjoying her fretting.

Miles of trees and overgrown fields sped by them, the houses turning into scattered farms dispersed by crops and cows. The wind whipping through her hair as it re-structured it for her. She didn't even mind, wiping away the flyaway curls and enjoying the last drops of warmth in the lazy golden sun. The corn had grown tall, suggesting hidden places for romantic meetings. She could just imagine running through their soft stalks, the way they'd bend in the wind, surrounding her in a wild maze. Everything always seemed more whimsical in the last warm days of autumn, like summer was lingering around for a final taste before bitter winter set in.

He pulled off onto the side of the long road they had been driving on. With not much more than a glance in her direction, he nodded his head towards the woods that lay just beyond a small metal guardrail. Carol followed him, stepping over it, leaves crunching beneath her heavy footfalls. Daryl shushed her, tip toeing further into the thicket. Despite her confusion, she trusted him and followed cautiously in the footprints he left behind.

Every now and then he'd point to an impression in the dirt, a scuffle of leaves gathered together or a tick in the bark of a tree. They came to a small clearing, and Daryl ducked down into a bush, pulling her along quickly. She thought about the possibility of ticks and snakes, but her worries left when he pulled the bramble apart and pointed.

In front of them lay a doe and her fawn. Carol inhaled sharply, looking to Daryl happily. He grinned back at her, pride beaming from his gaze as he watched her melt at the sight of the gentle creatures. The doe began to lick the fawn and Carol grabbed his hand, hoping to contain the excitement she felt between their palms so it wouldn't frighten the deer away. He chuckled, standing up and pulling her along with him. He started the walk back to the highway, and Carol turned every few steps to watch the deer. All the while their hands stayed clasped.

"How'd you know about that?" Carol asked once the animals were out of sight.

"My brother and I were tracking the buck for a long while. Came across those two the other day. Figured there was a good chance they might still be nearby, and you could learn a little tracking yourself. To get you ready for that big old apocalypse."

"I didn't know you hunted."

Daryl shrugged, "We only kill what we're gonna eat. Sometimes it's the only way we get meat for the week."

Carol nodded, and he waited for her to press him further, ready to throw her off the question with some innocuous response. She didn't though, and he felt a push to tell her more.

"My old man's pretty worthless. Most days he just sits around in his armchair, drunk, staring at the T.V. He forgets to buy food. Merle wastes all his money on booze or blow. So I go out and I hunt. It ain't all bad, squirrel's pretty good," he ended with a laugh, trying to conceal the callous pain with a joke.

Her fingers squeezed tighter in his, pushing until their palms were flesh together and he could feel the slow beat of her veins. The pad of her thumb brushed against his knuckle causing the skin she passed over to tingle. He liked the way her touch cracked through him, spiking through his nerves. It was the kind of painful that he didn't want to lose because it made him feel alive.

When they got back to the truck, Carol patiently waited for him, leaning against the passenger door as he drew a cigarette from his back pocket. Daryl lit it up, taking her in as he inhaled slowly. He decided she was dangerous. It seemed like she didn't have any expectations of him, like getting to know him let all those pretenses he'd worked hard to build around himself blow away. She looked at him with unreserved acceptance. There wasn't any fine print that went along with how she regarded him. She never prodded or pushed anything out of him, letting him offer her what he could. He didn't know how to act without the confinements of preconceived notions. It was a freedom that he didn't have a damn clue what to do with.

"Your dad won't mind if you're home late?"

Carol shook her head, "He can take out a TV dinner. Why, where are we going now?"

"You've got lots more skills to learn," he said, smiling almost smugly as he crushed the cigarette beneath his boot and motioned for her to hop back into the truck.


	12. Chapter 12

_Thanks as always you guys for being the absolute best! I adore you all from the depths of my soul! Hope you like this next chapter, it's a bit short but full of kinda adorable things!_

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Daryl drove until the sun's last breath sighed over the horizon, leaving the sky to the inky night. Carol recognized the dip of road that he turned down, leading them to the rocky expanse. She looked at him, confusion wrapped in intrigue as he shut the engine off and climbed out of the truck.

She met him at the back of the pick-up, where he pulled the flatbed down and shook out a scratchy forest green blanket. He spread it out on the bed and then held a hand out to help her climb in. He snorted, lips cocking to the side in a smirk when she brushed past his hand and got in without assistance.

"What are we doing here?" Carol asked once Daryl had settled in beside her, shoulders almost pressed together with their legs outstretched in front of them. The quarry that Rick had brought them to was hushed around them, like it would hold all their secrets and no one could pry it open.

"A good way to navigate is by the stars. If you can locate the North one then you could figure out how to get where you're goin'. Remember which one it was?"

Carol stared up at the stars, their masses so far away but so brilliant in the twilight. She remembered how it felt, lying next to him on the hood of Rick's car and the way he held her with just a touch of his hand. She certainly remembered the way his laugh sounded, buried in the fabric of her dress as they tugged with the M&amp;M's.

She pointed up, "That one?"

Daryl moved her wrist slightly higher. "_That_ one."

"So you know all this from hunting? Isn't it hard to hunt at night?" She asked, her gaze not leaving the bright star as she thought about all the people throughout the world that used it to find their way back to something important.

"Didn't learn about that from hunting exactly."

She looked at him, her head tilted slightly as her forearms draped across her drawn up knees. That tug to tell her more, to expose his ragged self until he couldn't breathe pulled the rest of the story from him.

"Got lost in the woods when I was a kid. It was a couple of days, not entirely sure how many. Didn't matter 'cause no one even knew I was gone. Realized I could have made it home a hell of a lot faster if I knew where the hell I was going, so I figured out how to find my way by the stars and the sun. Never got lost again."

It was in the way she looked at him, how she took in every word of his story and buried it in her bones. She didn't pity him or evade him when he let her in just a little bit more. She understood. Twisting around, Daryl slid the back window open, leaning into the truck through the hole before Carol could say anything. Rustling around he emerged with a beat up old book in his hand. _Astronomy: The Universe's Mysteries_, the title read.

"You said you wanted to see constellations. Don't know if this'll be any help, but thought we could try to find one or two," Daryl explained when he saw her eyebrows quirked up in question. He flipped through the yellowing pages.

"Where did you even get that?" Carol asked, awestruck.

He shrugged, like he always did when he didn't want something that he'd done to be made a big deal over, "Found it in science class."

"You just took it?"

He nodded, chewing at the corner of his bottom lip as he studied a map of stars, glancing between the poor quality photograph and the sky above him. Carol felt a wave of something that tasted almost like sadness. Her fingers fidgeted into her lap, locking and unlocking together.

"Why do you keep doing this stuff for me, Daryl?"

When he looked up at her, she was staring at him with such severity, like she dared him to be honest and expected an answer she wouldn't entirely like. He froze, and the fearfulness that flashed for just a second behind his eyes softened her.

"I don't mean to sound ungrateful. I just don't understand. I haven't done a thing for you," she quieted, her head falling back to the glass of the truck as she stared up and away from him.

"You gave me a chance," he said simply, his grip tightening around the edge of the book. There was a change, something evolving that dangled between them and if either of them reached out to yank it then all the unspoken feelings would spill out like an emotive piñata.

Daryl turned back to the book, concentrating as best he could and Carol leaned into him, shoulders pressing together as the chipped polish of her fingernail traced the outline of Libra. They looked up to the sky, squinting to make out the supposed shapes that hid there.

"Maybe it's that bunch over there?" Carol pointed up to a cluster.

Daryl let out a soft laugh, "I think those are just three random stars."

Carol huffed, folding her arms against her chest. "Well…then they can be our stars."

"A'right, deal," he agreed, picking up a pen from the bed of the truck. Circling around a similar looking spot in the textbook, Daryl scrawled in the words _Carol's stars_. Frowning, Carol took the pen from him, adding in her own looped word above where he scribed her name.

"Daryl _and_ Carol's stars," she declared, capping the pen. Daryl ripped the page out, tossing the book to the corner of the truck bed. He tried to hand it to her but she pushed it back towards his chest.

"Keep it. Hang it up by your bed. That way you won't ever feel lost again," she smiled at him. The corners of his mouth fought against the smile that pried at them and he folded the paper up and stuck in his back pocket.

When he scooted off the end of the truck and held out his hand for her, Carol let him help her down.

In the truck as he drove them home, a question bubbled up in her chest so that she opened and closed her mouth several times to let it out. She worked and worked at it, rewording and perfecting the right tone in her head. So lost in her own thoughts she hadn't even noticed the way he glanced at her, first just from the corner of his eyes and then by full on turning his head to study her beneath red stop lights.

Carol finally worked up the courage (or maybe it was the nervous push of last chances) as she stood outside the truck, leaning into the window before finding her way into the house.

"Daryl, will you go to the dance with me?" she blurted, eyes locked in a stare—frozen as she counted every second that elongated between his surprised breath.

"I don't…I don't _dance_, Carol."

"That's okay," she smiled, "I don't either."

He thought about it for a long fourteen seconds (she counted). Nodding his head slightly, his thumbnail mangled in his mouth, he carefully pushed his answer out, each syllable dragging between his teeth. "Alright."

"Okay," her smile couldn't have gotten wider if she tried.

"Okay," his lips quirked up, and if he couldn't stop his own smile he'd at least hide it by bowing his head away from her.

"Alright."

"G'night, Carol," he slanted his eyes to her, still trying to hide out in the open.

"Night," she called back, her softness carrying him all the way home where he tacked the torn page up at the side of his mattress. He stared at the grouping of stars, circled by their hands and suddenly he wasn't surrounded by cigarette butts and old smelly clothes in a broken home. Closing his eyes, Daryl felt the vision of her wrap around him until he drifted off to somewhere shining and comfortable, someplace important.


	13. Chapter 13

_A little bit more Richonne in this one! And a little bit less happy than some of our other chapters, but every 80's movie needs that little bit of doubt right? :) Two more chapters left though (and a bit of an epilogue)! I've been having a bit of trouble replying back to anyone who's signed in and reviewed cause my computer's being a louse but just know I appreciate all of you guys so much! Really, thanks so so much for reading and for all of you who took a leap of faith on a high school au and have stuck with me this long! You're all incredible and beautiful and my darlings xx_

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It wasn't a far walk between Michonne's house and the bar. Located off the far end of Main Street, the music playing from Axel's could often be heard from the corner. It wasn't as seedy as The Governor's Pub which sat at the forefront of the wooded area behind the park and was often a site for drunken brawls. It was rumored that someone had even lost an eye once. Axel's was a low-key kind of joint, hosting open mic nights and live bands. Michonne's parents went for the monthly poetry slam sometimes on date nights.

Still, the idea of having to finagle their way into a twenty-one and over bar wasn't totally sitting well with Carol. Only a few years ago and she would have been able to get in just fine, but now that the law had changed she wasn't sure how well it'd go. It's not that she was afraid, the worst that could happen was they didn't get in, but it was the embarrassment of the whole thing that she wasn't sure was worth the chance. She shoved her hands into the pockets of her jean jacket, her fingers brushing against the envelope that she folded inside of the left one. In it was the ticket to the Fall Fling—a golden yellow piece of cardstock with silky calligraphy—that she had bought at school that morning. On the envelope she had drawn three little stars on the corner, and was planning on giving it to Daryl once she saw him. The promise of him already inside, waiting, kept her from hightailing it back home.

* * *

Glenn had lured her into spending their time at Jacqui's again while she babysat him the night before. He was greatly disappointed to find that the arcade game hadn't even lasted the week, it's glaringly bright orange 'Out of Order' sign putting a damper on his mood entirely. To cheer him up, Carol took him across the street to the gas station.

"But Carol," Glenn protested, clinging to her hand as they crossed the street, "There's candy at Jacqui's."

"Yeah I know, but this candy is special. Even more special than anything at Jacqui's!" she promised, guiding him along as they entered the small convenience store. She rifled through the candy rack.

"Those are just M&amp;M's," Glenn huffed, clearly in the state of distress where nothing would please him, "Jacqui's has so many M&amp;M's."

"Not these kinds. Now if you quit whining I'll let you have the whole bag to yourself, deal?" her eyebrows raised, daring him to turn down such an offer. His smile widened, and he nodded vigorously until his cap fell over his eyes. Carol fixed it, grabbing up his hand and going up to the counter. Leaning over to see passed the cashier's shoulder she could see Daryl in his grey coveralls, covered in grease and oil as he leaned over the engine of an Oldsmobile. The cashier followed her gaze, a friendly knowing smirk as he banged on the glass window that separated the convenience store from the mechanic shop.

"DIXON!" he yelled. Daryl looked up, almost conking his head on the hood. Merle, who Carol hadn't noticed was standing only a few feet away, turned to look as well.

"Got yourself a customer," the cashier hollered again, moving away as Daryl jogged forward, barely suppressing the grin that slighted his lips as he came through the back door.

"Hey," he greeted, matching her posture as he leaned his elbows against the counter, their faces tilted towards each other. "What are you doin' over here? You know it ain't the nicest place to hang out."

"I know, but we had a rough day and I thought we could use some cheering up," Carol pointed to Glenn who was back to expressing his anguish with an attempt at a scowl.

"What happened? Aliens blow up your little nerd ship?" he teased, gaining him a sideways glare from Carol.

Glenn huffed, his little hands balling into fists as he bounced them off his sides, "I couldn't even play. It was out of order. And it's not fair because Maggie stinkin' Greene was bragging about how she got the high score. I just wanted to beat her! And then I could go into school tomorrow and tell her and she would think I was cool and maybe then she would let me sit with her on the swings by the playground and then we could share our snacks."

After having rushed out his indignant speech in one ongoing breathe, Glenn was panting. Carol exchanged a smirk with Daryl, who opened up the M&amp;M pouch and poured a few in his hand. He leaned over the counter handing them to Glenn. "Well it's a good thing Carol's getting you these. M&amp;M's are just about the best way to feel better when your day gets all shitty."

"Thanks," Glenn said, taking the candies and shoving them in his mouth all at once. "Today has been shitty," he mumbled through the chocolate, reaching up on his tip toes to take hold of the whole package that Daryl pushed to the edge of the counter

"Daryl!" Carol scolded, smacking against Daryl's arm as his head fell to the counter with laughter. "Glenn don't you ever repeat that!"

Glenn shrugged, pouring out more candy from the pouch directly into his mouth.

"You're terrible," Carol whispered, holding in her own giggle as Daryl calmed down.

He pulled his head up from the counter, smiling as he did and looking down at the child, chocolate already smeared all over his face, "It's good for him, kid needs to toughen up."

Carol rolled her eyes. There was a knock at the glass and Daryl looked back over his shoulder. Merle stood there, eyes narrowed in a glare as he motioned to the car Daryl had abandoned.

"I gotta get back," he said, straightening up.

"Yeah, us too," Carol agreed. "But tomorrow night? You're still going?"

"'Course," Daryl said, head bobbing. Merle hit on the glass again, impatience seeping from his features.

"I'll meet you there," he added hastily, leaving her and Glenn on their own. She watched as he emerged on the other side of the glass, rolling his eyes as his brother yelled something incoherent at him. Carol had turned away before she could catch Merle peering through the window, eyeing her with contempt and calculation.

* * *

The fuzzing sound of a guitar amp told them that they were in the right place. Chancing one reassuring look between them, Michonne and Carol carried on to the broad shouldered bouncer that stood in front of the door.

"ID's?" he asked, arms folded and muscles bulging beneath an army green tank top. The red of his handlebar mustache glared beneath the dim light he stood under.

Michonne opened her side bag, pretending to rifle through and telepathically communicate with Carol at the same time.

"Funny thing," Carol made a laughing noise that sounded nothing like anything Michonne had ever heard come out of her before. "We were just at Governor's and it was just getting too rough in there. So we took off but I think we left our wallets behind. Do you mind if we just go in and use the telephone to call them? I really couldn't stomach the idea of heading back there right now." She gave a little shudder to add effect to the story she spun wildly off the top of her head.

The bouncer glanced between Carol and Michonne, who steadied a neutral expression on her face. The bridge of his nose crinkled as he contemplated them. He closed his mouth just as soon as he opened it, a large hand falling hard on his shoulder.

"I got them, Abe," Tyreese smiled from the doorway.

"Friends of yours?" the bouncer grunted.

Nodding, Tyreese held his arm out for the girls to follow through the doorway. Relief whooshed out of Carol but was quickly replaced by adrenaline. Out of the sight of the bouncer she turned to Michonne, grabbing her forearm and allowing the faintest squeal to escape.

"That was brilliant," Michonne whispered as they continued down the narrow hall that opened up to the bar. There was a somber tone to the place with its cherry wood lining and dimmed yellow lights. Through the smoke-filled haze and decent sized crowd Carol could glimpse the corner stage. Tyreese jumped up onto it, rubbing his beanie until it slipped off and he had to stretch it over his head again. Introducing the band, he thanked everyone for coming, and they started with a slow, gentle jazz piece.

Carol peered around the crowd, but she couldn't spot anyone recognizable. There was a gathering of men by a pool table in the far corner, and she concentrated on them, willing them to break apart so she could see if Daryl was among them.

"Found him," she heard Michonne say, feeling her fingers entwine with hers as Michonne dragged her in the opposite direction, squeezing through the throng of people.

"Rick?" Carol squinted, the face in front of her not the one she expected.

"Good to see you too, Carol," he frowned.

"Sorry," Carol shook out of her disappointment, giving him a small smile, "I just thought you'd be…"

"Daryl's here. He had to…go off somewhere. But he'll be back," Rick reassured her, before sidling closer to Michonne.

"Where's Lori?"

She hadn't meant to ask the question so accusingly, but no one got to tug around her best friend. Not that Michonne couldn't handle her own heartaches. Still, Rick couldn't have it both ways, he didn't get to have Lori _and_ Michonne's attention.

He faltered for a second, head tilting slightly as his eyebrows knit together. Carol saw he was thinking of the best way to phrase his thoughts, "We…uh…we broke up."

"Sorry," she said for the second time to him. Michonne's lips tugged against each other, keeping a wild grin at bay. It clicked then for Carol that the only person who this was news for was her. Knowing Carol had caught on, Michonne determinedly avoided the slightly whimpering way she stared at her, choosing instead to fully concentrate on the light set up above the stage. If she looked at Carol she'd feel guilty about not exactly telling her about some of the late night phone calls she'd received from Rick over the past few days after his and Lori's break up. But Carol felt a tinge of her own guilt, thinking maybe she should have noticed that something was happening between the two but she had been busy with her own _happenings_ to notice.

Michonne sidled closer to Rick, eventually leaning against his arm. Carol could spy his hand slipping closer to her, until finally, he came to rest gingerly at her waist. Though every time their skin made contact Rick's eyes fluttered around the room as if making eye contact with Michonne might burn up every bit of courage he had.

Carol felt a genuine flutter in her chest. There was nothing more important than her best friend's happiness and watching the subtle way they nuzzled against each other she could practically feel the giddiness rubbing off them and penetrating everything around them. It was in the upbeat drumming of the band, in the way Michonne's whole face lit up with a smile as she leaned a hand against Rick's shoulder, shouting something into his ear, and the way he smiled, cupping a hand over her ear so he wouldn't have to shout at her. It spread Carol's cheeks into a smile, that sprouted out a half laugh half squeal and she flung her arms around the two, pulling them close for a hug.

They stood together through the rest of the song. The band shifted now to a harder rhythm, the guitar riffing without restraint, Tyreese snapping and grooving as he schmoozed to the crowd. They hung on his words, swaying with him in whichever direction he felt like going. Carol scanned the crowd again, running rampant with every logical reason for Daryl not having appeared yet.

"You said Daryl left, Rick? Like did he _leave_-leave or did he go to the bathroom or…" she trailed off, the reason she had been searching for now piercing through her with his crystalline glare. It was quite amazing the speed in which Merle Dixon slinked through the horde, and she felt constricted just by the way he stopped no more than a few inches in front of her.

"Ain't you got anywhere better to be?" he hissed, eyes narrowed into two alcohol infused slits.

Carol tried to keep her composure, knowing that the more she fidgeted the tighter he'd squeeze. "I was just—"

"Just what? Huh? Just trying to stick your pretty little face into things that ain't none of your business? Listen, _girlie_, I got some advice for you—stay away from my brother. He don't want you around."

Out of the corner of her eye, Carol could see Michonne standing, ready to intercept. She stopped her, holding her hand up and Michonne took the minutest step backwards. Squaring herself up, Carol snapped back to Merle, her eyes hard and locked.

"That's for Daryl to tell me, not you," her voice edged like a sword, slicing him so that Merle wavered back just slightly.

"He don't know better, my baby brother. Always so sweet and assuming the best. It's gonna get him in a pile of shit one o' these days and I'm pretty sure you're the first sweet turd he's gone and stepped in," Merle ran a tongue across his teeth, ending in a revolting sucking sound. His voice never raised beyond a low, rasping rumble. It stung like venom coursing through every part of her.

"You think you care about him, huh, peach? You just like him 'cause he's all shiny and new, and that's all love is. You ain't gonna love him no more once you find out just how dull he really is. See, I'm just tryin' to be a good big brother, tryin' to protect him from the day you eventually leave him 'cause he ain't good enough. And _these_," Merle jabbed his finger at her earlobes, "These ain't yours."

"Carol!" He was smiling, stumbling through the crowd and she thought there wasn't a more heartbreaking sound than her name on Daryl's tongue.

She cut her eyes away from him, not wanting to see his unfettered joy at finding her while she crumbled to dust. He stood between her and his brother, confused and wobbling from the alcohol she could smell off him.

"I have to go," she said, filtering every bit of conviction through the sorrow that pricked at her. She looked to Michonne who was already gathering herself together to follow Carol to the exit.

"Wait, wait, wait…" Daryl slurred, slightly panicked as he tried to clear himself away from the fog long enough to concentrate. He stared between them all, his hand gently gripping Carol's shoulder. His eyes came to land on Merle, everything clicking in one coherent string. "The hell did you say to her?"

"Didn't say a damn word that ain't the God's honest truth," Merle spoke calmly, sipping almost daintily from his beer bottle. He never blinked, boring into Carol over his brother's shoulder. She pulled away from Daryl's grip, pushing through the crowd with the force of anger that was burrowing up from her center. She made it through the door, passed the bouncer and down to the next streetlight before Daryl had caught up.

"Carol! _Carol_!" he yelled after her and a part of her didn't want to turn around. In that moment she wanted to leave him there, yelling and frustrated. She wanted him to be pissed at her.

"He's an asshole, Carol, just don't listen to him," he reached out to her, hands weighing down on her shoulders. He was trying hard to fight through the buzz of the alcohol. "He's just an asshole."

She shook her head, turning to face him. "He's not Daryl. He cares about you. He's doing his best."

Closing her eyes, she held in a breath that threatened to stop her. When she opened her eyes he stared at her, earnest and needing, drawing his hands from her shoulders to rest against the base of her neck. His fingers ran gently along her jaw, in a way that she knew he'd imagined doing but without the booze could never attempt before.

"I need you to listen to me," she shook her head, moving away from his touch. Reaching up to her ears she unscrewed the earrings, holding them tight in her palm. "Merle's right. I can't care about you. And I-I don't want to." With a final push she shoved the earrings at him, releasing them to his open hand.

Turning from him, she crossed the street, the clack of Michonne's heels catching up to her. She could hear Rick calling for Daryl but she didn't look back once, not able to face the hatred she was sure he felt for her. Shoving her fists into her jean jacket, she thumbed the envelope that still sat there.


	14. Chapter 14

_You guys are AMAZING! I can't even put into words the incredible feelings all your kind and enthusiastic comments give me! I appreciate every single one of you guys! So this isn't quite a resolution, but it's one step closer. Next (and, technically, final chapter if we exclude the epilogue) is the big dance!_

* * *

For the first few seconds that Carol fluttered awake, she was suspended in the illusion that maybe yesterday hadn't happened at all. It wasn't until she turned over, and the envelope she had posted to her bedside table like a shrine to her pain blinked into view, that it all came back to her. An awful feeling pricked from her head to her toes, sinking her into the bed as she drew the comforter around her head, sealing herself into a cocoon. Regret. Disappointment. Whatever it was—it hurt like hell.

She contemplated the option of skipping school, and even though the pros greatly outweighed the cons she dragged herself out of bed anyway. Her heart might be broken but that was no reason that her attendance record should suffer too. Swaddling herself in the biggest, most comfy sweater she owned, she squeezed into her Keds and snatched her knapsack from the ground. The movement caused the envelope to fall. Picking it up with a groan, Carol ran her thumb over the three hand-drawn stars. They felt oddly nostalgic, the pull of longing burning in her chest. She threw the envelope into the knapsack, hoping she could get the money back from Lori for it.

Michonne brought a tin of cookies with her onto the bus, handing them over to Carol wordlessly. She popped them open, holding them in her lap as she leaned her head against Michonne's shoulder, the cookies crumbling onto the vinyl seat as she chewed thoughtfully. She allowed herself to sulk for the remainder of the ride, straightening up and snapping the cover back onto the cookies once the bus screeched to a halt.

It'd be a lie to say she hadn't looked for him in the hall, or glanced over to the room across the way during Math multiple times. But he wasn't there and it made him seem intangible. She was left with nothing but the pieces of him that she still felt in her marrow and the fear that even those would fade away.

Rick tried to catch her attention in Physics class, but she had pulled Andrea to a far off station so he couldn't get closer. Not one to give up on the chase, Rick followed her out of the classroom.

"I just need one minute," he pleaded with her at her locker.

"One minute for what?" she said, refusing to look at him as she switched one set of books to other. She thought her locker smelled vaguely of leather, or maybe it was just her imagination being cruel.

Head tilted, he sighed and placed a hand on her shoulder, "Carol, I was with him. I just think you should get an idea of how the whole night went."

She closed her locker, waiting a second before responding. "One minute. That's all."

Rick pulled her to an alcove by the gymnasium between the trophy case and the locker rooms. The archway gave the illusion of privacy even if it was in the middle of a busy hallway.

"Look, Daryl didn't know Merle was going to be there. We had both gotten to the bar around the same time, and were shooting a game of pool when Merle walked in. I mean, don't get me wrong, Daryl was happy to see him. He was in a good mood all night on account of, well, on account of you. He even let it slip out when Merle had gotten us a beer each that he was excited you were coming."

It was everything she didn't want to hear, and she started pull away from him and merge into the foot traffic that would carry her to her next class.

"Carol, stop. Listen. Daryl didn't see the way Merle got pissed after he said that. He hid it well enough and kept shoving beer after beer into Daryl's hand. Egging him on with how Daryl needs to be a man, and step up and all this other shit. When you and Michonne came in, Daryl had left because he had to throw up."

"I wasn't mad at Daryl for being drunk, Rick. That's not why I did what I did," Carol tried to explain but Rick shook his head, his hand coming to rest on her shoulder as if he could guide her through his rambling.

"I know, Carol, I know. But there's more, because after you left, Daryl just stood there. I tried to shake him out of it and after a minute he let me. He kept saying he didn't understand, he didn't know what happened so I told him a little about what Merle had said. Then Merle came out—_laughing_. Daryl got pissed, and I mean I've seen him mad before but not like this. He punched Merle right in the mouth, I mean he snapped back and hit his head on the brick wall and everything. They were throwing punches hard, it wasn't some brotherly scuffle. I got in between them once but they just went at it again. That bouncer and Tyreese had to come out and pull them apart. Daryl was a mess, he just looked awful and he didn't make a sound. But Merle? He was still laughing. He didn't care. Even told Daryl to get in his truck, that he was driving them both home. Daryl just got into my car without saying anything. I offered to let him stay at my place but he just wanted me to drive him home.

"So I did, and when we got there he didn't even go inside. Rummaged around by some shed, grabbed a bag and I'm pretty sure he had a crossbow. Waved me off and disappeared into the woods. Merle wasn't home yet but I wasn't about to wait around until he got there, so I took off."

Guilt struck through her at the thought of Daryl alone in the woods, like the child he once was without a clue of where to go. "Rick," she said calmly, "I appreciate what you're trying to do, but you've got it all wrong."

Rick didn't move, his hand still holding tight near the collar of her sweater. She wasn't going to shake him off that easily.

"I didn't walk away _because _of him, I did it _for _him. I know that Merle was talking out of his ass, trying to get me away for whatever selfish reason he has, but that doesn't mean he's wrong," she finished quietly, avoiding the confused look that tilted Rick's head.

"Nobody knows how things are going to work out," he said finally, his hand cupping around her neck before Rick drew away from her. "I thought Lori and I would get married after I started the academy. Have a couple kids, maybe a dog. Nice house with a picket fence. But that's not how it worked out and that's not my fault and it's not her fault. And now maybe something better is happening for me, I don't know. Which is the point, you know? You can't predict what's going to happen between you and Daryl, but that doesn't mean whatever does happen won't be worth it. Even if it's just for a little while."

"What if I hurt him?"

She blinked away the tears before they could fall, refusing to cry amidst the heavy flow of between class period traffic.

"You already did," Rick said truthfully, and it wasn't anything she didn't already know but it splintered her into an infinite number of pieces.

"I have to find him," she whispered, not knowing if Rick heard her. He pressed his car keys into her hand, a crooked smile on his face as he nodded towards the gym exit where she could cut across the field and slip off the property without anyone noticing. She bit her lip, a worried knot balling in her stomach. Skipping wasn't exactly something she did. Hell, she couldn't even handle the idea of being late to a class. Still, her grip firmed around the keys, and she knew that if she didn't take the risk the regret would sting worse than any amount of detention could. Leaning in quickly, she pecked Rick on the cheek before hurrying out the doors.

She stopped just short of pulling them open, looking back at him one last time. "Hey Rick?"

He looked to her, a wry grin spread on his face.

"If you ever hurt Michonne, I'll set you on fire," she set her face seriously, but allowed the simmer of a grin to cut through as she added, with a jangle of his keys, "And thanks."

Rick's car was parked at the back of the lot near the football field. It took her three turns of the keys to get it started, shimmying to life in its unstable way. Pulling out she was amazed that not one teacher or security guard even attempted to stop her, or even notice that she was leaving. She wondered why she spent all those years being terrified that she'd be late to class if it was so simple to just leave altogether. Her anxiety about rule-breaking fell to the wayside for the time being, no longer seeming so scary if there was no one around who cared if she followed them or not.

Carol started in the farthest place she could think to look. She didn't even bother cutting the engine or taking the keys out, hopping over the guardrail into the wooded area off the highway. Trying hard to remember what he had worn the night (it was his usual dark denim on dark denim on dark denim) before she searched the trees and twigs to see if any similar material had been snagged. Apparently a Dixon was a lot harder to track than a deer. She turned back around before she lost herself too far into the woods.

She took the car clear across to the quarry, wheezing and purring each mile as she stepped on the gas harder. It was like a whole different world than at night, the lake reflecting the clear sky and the rocks looking sharper than she had imagined. She found two old men on folding chairs with tiny fishing rods and a transistor radio tuned in to the news station. They hadn't seen anyone for hours.

She didn't know where he lived, but stopping by his house was probably out of the question anyway. Ditching Rick's car on Main Street, she scoured every store window. Jacqui's was empty, as was the video store. Throwing open the door of Smooth Tunes, she scanned the room quickly without stepping inside.

"Have you seen Daryl?" she shouted to Tyreese when she spotted him. He walked over to her, concern settled in each of his features.

"I haven't, not since last night. He looked a mess though. You two okay?"

"I hope so."

A faint smile found its way across her lips, barely stretching the corner of her mouth as she shrugged, an out of place eagerness easing into her. She left Tyreese in the doorway, continuing her search down the street. A chuckle escaped him as he watched her, shaking his head as he retreated back into the store after she had turned the corner.

It was the last place she could think to look and the last place she wanted to be.

"You can do this," she told herself, inhaling until her lungs felt like two over-filled balloons, the oxygen burning her throat to be let out. Exhaling with her cheeks full and round, she marched towards the gas station.

It was still early afternoon and the station was nearly deserted. Regardless, she kept an eye out for Merle as she approached the lonely attendant who was stationed near the entrance to the convenience store. She remembered him as the cashier from when she and Glenn had stopped in.

"Excuse me?" she said quietly, eyeing the man's name patch, "Bob, is it?"

"Sure is. Can I help you?" he smiled at her, welcoming whatever break he could catch on such a slow shift.

Carol dug around in her knapsack, pulling out the envelope that she had disregarded there. It was crumpled, the upper left corner torn, and stained with dried splashes of tears. "I need to make sure this gets to Daryl Dixon. I know he works here."

"Sometimes he does," Bob said, taking the envelope from her. He turned it around a few times, his index finger running across the corner adorned with the almost faded stretch of stars. "What's in it?"

"An apology," she said, her toes knocking together as she fidgeted.

Bob leaned back in his chair to smile up at her. "Alright. I'll make sure Daryl gets this. Only because I remember the sappy little smile he had when you came in the other day. You can call me a hopeless romantic."

"Thank you!" she jumped forward, barely stopping herself from flinging her arms around him in a hug. Instead she gave a polite smile and nod to accompany her thanks. Ready to run back to school, Carol turned away. There was only an hour left but she had to get Rick's car back, and more importantly she needed to fill Michonne in on every bursting gush of emotion she felt in that instant.

She stopped suddenly, pivoting on her heels in one fluid motion.

"One more thing," she said, jogging back towards him. She fished out some crinkled bills from her back pocket that she was going to use to buy herself sympathy chocolate from Jacqui's after school.

"Here," she said handing the money to him, "Can you throw in a package of M&amp;M's. And please make sure it gets to _Daryl_ and not Merle. In fact, don't even mention it to him."

"That's two things," Bob pointed out, "And I make no promises about big brother Dixon, but I'll do my best."

A range of emotions paraded through her at the same time. She felt each one like it was strapped to either a life vest or an anchor; hoisting her up or weighing her down. She flipped from one to the other with each vacillating beat of her heart, just hoping that whichever way it turned out, it wasn't too late.


	15. Chapter 15

_Well here we are! The final chapter in our 80's movie saga and __I hope you guys are as happy with it as I am! There will be a short epilogue to follow, which I'll post up in a few days. Really, really, really hope you guys enjoyed this fic, and I thank all of you for reading and for taking out the time to flail about it with me. You're all totally tubular bitchin' peeps in my eyes!_

_P.S. I totally recommend that you listen to If You Were Here by Thompson Twins to get the full 80's experience! Enjoy and thanks for reading xoxo_

* * *

"Just one more, bug!" Carol's father smiled, readying the disposable camera for another picture. Standing in front of their small curio cabinet, her father deciding that the gold metal trim and mirrored surface would make the nicest backdrop, Carol fixed another grin despite her aching cheeks.

After the camera clicked, the flash blinding and leaving floating blobs of purples and pinks in her eyes, Carol was ready to bolt out the door.

"Not so fast," her father reprimanded, motioning for her to stay put as he disappeared into the kitchen. She pulled anxiously at the double spaghetti straps of her white dress, her denim jacket folded over her arm until she was chilly enough to wear it. The fitted bodice sat delicately on her frame before widening out with a slight flare of the skirt.

Reappearing with a plastic container in his hand, her father pulled out a small corsage. He slid the delicate pink rose and baby breath around her wrist. "I know I haven't been around much these past few months, bug, but I want you to know that I'm proud of you. You've grown up so much since…since your mother left. I know she'd be proud of you, too," he cupped her cheeks, his hands large and worn as he held her gingerly.

"Jeez, Dad," she laughed slightly to mask her shaky breath, "I don't even want to know how sappy you're going to be when it's time for Prom." Leaning up to him, she pressed a kiss to his cheek and wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him. They fit together, father and daughter locked in like a puzzle without a single piece missing between them. After an extra tight squeeze, her father ushered her out to their car. Dropping her off at Michonne's, he handed her the disposable camera with instructions to finish off the roll at the dance.

Michonne bounded down the steps to greet Carol in the hallway, her rouge lips matching the strapless peplum dress she wore. It brought out the warm tones of her dark skin, and Carol let out a whistle as Michonne twirled for her. They stopped for the obligatory pictures, frustrating Michonne's parents with their silly faces.

"Where's Rick?" Carol asked as they waited for the Mills to finish readying themselves.

Michonne smirked, "He already knows I have the hottest date to the dance and he just couldn't compete." Grabbing Carol's hand she twirled her in a circle.

Once she regained her balance, Carol asked again, "No, but seriously. He's coming right?"

Nodding, Michonne explained, "He'll meet us there. We're taking things slow. Lori and him did go out for a long time and even though I believe him when he says everything is good between them, I'd rather give him time. Besides, whoever said I even liked him?!"

Carol rolled her eyes, a snorted laugh escaping her that led into a smile. Michonne reached over and fluffed Carol's curls absently, maximizing their volume with the brush of her fingers.

Reassessing her reflection, Carol ran a finger against one curl, pulling at a lone silver hair, "I swear this is the fourth grey hair I've found this week. At this rate, I'll be completely grey by thirty."

Michonne eyed her through the mirror, her lips pressed together as she contemplated the possibility. "That'd be hot."

Carol's eyebrows quirked up, challenged her through the mirror and they both broke out into laughter. The room filled with the feeling that's only created when best friends smile at each other, the invincibility of knowing the entire universe could collapse around them but in that moment it wouldn't matter because they'd still have each other to lean on.

It took them a minute to settle down, leaning against the foyer walls as the very limited amount of their teenage patience thinned.

"Have you heard from him?" Michonne asked quietly, and was met with a shake of Carol's head. She didn't press her further, taking Carol's hand in a firm hold as her parents finally appeared, ready to whisk them to the dance.

Lori stood at the entrance of the gymnasium, collecting tickets and welcoming each student. Shane sat in a folding chair next to her, a slight daft grin taking the place of his usual half sneer. When Carol and Michonne approached them, handing Lori their tickets, she told them Rick was already inside with a smile on her face. Shane reached up for her hand, kissing her knuckles and tugging her down to his lap. They seemed more natural than usual, holding themselves with a sense of ease that had been missing for quite some time.

The gymnasium doors were decorated with large cut-out leaves, painted in gold and red and orange glitter. Strings of lights hung from the rafted ceiling, meeting together at a suspended disco ball that was reused every dance and had a few tiles missing. Two cafeteria tables were pushed together, a yellow table cloth spread across to hide the familiar off-white surface. An impressive spread of sandwiches, cheese cubes, pie and punch beckoned from them. The DJ spun a mixture of Top 40's hits and all-time favorites that never failed to bewitch even the most reluctant wallflower to dance.

Rick found them after a few minutes, bringing with him a cup of punch for each of them.

"You both look incredible," he flashed them a smile, his gaze lingering down Michonne's form fitting dress for just a few seconds longer before he looked around every other corner of the room, actively avoiding her eye contact.

They found a spot to sit together at a table in a back corner that offered a perfect oversight of the whole gym, but the resting didn't last long. The music pumped through them, feet tapping of their own accord. Rick asked them if they'd like to dance.

"Go on, I'll wait here," Carol smiled at Michonne's longing gaze, waving them off excitedly towards the dance floor. Promising that they'd be back right after the one song, they disappeared into the swinging crowd.

Looking around to take in the rest of her surroundings, Carol spotted Andrea Harrison at the corner of the food table, having blown straight past Mr. Horvath in favor of Phillip Blake. He took her hand and led her to the dance floor, but not before snatching up a few cubes of cheese to snack on without even a single complaint.

Instead of skulking through the dancing couples and pulling them apart, she spied Mr. Greene sitting happily amongst the bleachers, showing off his fake leg to some inquiring students.

Everything she had predicted was topsy-turvy, flipped upside down and unrecognizable. She was happy for them, for the way everyone seemed to finally let go of the expectations that cast them into tiny boxes and just live in the happiness of their senior year of high school. With each smiling face she counted, her own became smaller and smaller, and when the sinking feeling in her chest had finally lowered itself to her depths, she couldn't ignore it any longer.

He wasn't there. He hadn't shown up and she couldn't think of a single way to make herself forget how much it mattered to her. Every which way she looked there was a Daryl shaped hole that couldn't be filled. And she was the one that had cut it out.

She felt awful, her stomach bubbling against the sugary punch with a fresh pang of sadness. Suddenly all the jubilation of her classmates didn't seem so refreshing. It was suffocating the way they laughed and joked and carried on as if the world hadn't started to dim.

One song had turned into two songs and into three songs and Michonne and Rick still hadn't come back. It wasn't their fault, Carol reminded herself, but it was getting harder to watch everyone change around her, the special kind of loneliness that ignorantly blissful smiles bring to a sinking heart. She felt static, sticky with fear that she was destined to sit alone in the corner for the rest of her life.

Getting up quickly, the metal chair scraping across the gym floor unnoticed beneath the booming music, Carol headed towards the gym doors. She thought of finding Michonne and Rick to let them know she was going out for some air, but the crowd was thick and it wasn't worth chancing the search. She might drown before she could ever find them.

The air was cold, tight in her lungs as the entrance to the school clanged shut behind her. Goosebumps raised across her skin and she knew she should put on her jacket, but she liked the way the coldness reminded her that she could still feel something. The music became nothing but a dull roar, and she leaned against the brick wall, the slight bump of rhythm pounding at her back as she steadied herself. Twilight was falling, the stars beginning to wink at her from their place in the sky. She didn't risk meeting their gaze.

Skipping down the steps and away from the school, her feet found the cracks in the pavement, following them like a tightrope. She concentrated on their winding path, trying to ignore the thoughts that reeled around in her head. She thought instead about leaving the dance altogether, even if she hadn't said goodbye to anyone. She could go to Jacqui's, eat some late night chili cheese fries at the counter and see if _Space Invaders _had been fixed yet. Michonne would freak if she realized Carol had left, but she figured there was no point in souring their fun with her misery anyway, so she might as well disappear altogether.

It was the distant rumbling of an engine that cinched around her heart, stilling her mid-step until she loosened the grip apart. But lots of people owned motorcycles.

When it puttered closer, she was glued to the spot, her legs awkwardly twisted as the bike rounded the corner. Halting in front of her, Daryl didn't even bother kicking down the stand, dropping the bike on its side as he clambered over it. He was still dressed in his mechanics jumpsuit, grease and motor oil caked on his hands and arms. His left eye sported a deep purple bruise. He was an absolute mess but she couldn't envision anything more magnificent. She wanted to reach out and grab him just to see if he was real, wondering if she had actually become so miserable that she was hallucinating.

"Sorry I'm late," he breathed, standing unsteadily before her.

"I'm sorry I was a jerk," she said, holding herself from tears that she couldn't tell if they were happy or sad.

He stepped closer to her, his hands itching to stretch around her. "You weren't. Merle was. I shouldn't've let him get to me the way he did. If I wasn't drunk I would have—"

"No," she interrupted, stepping into him. "Don't blame yourself for what he does. He was just as awful to you, and it wasn't your fault. But I…I'm still scared he was right."

"Carol," he said, all the gentleness of a breeze whispering through her name as he spoke it. "I know we're both a little broken, but that don't mean we don't deserve whatever this is." He motioned to the limited space between them.

"I don't want to hurt you," she looked down, his gaze so earnest and bold that it tripped her over every thought she had except for the ones that urged her to hold him.

Daryl drew his hands ever so lightly up her arm, feeling her body and the way her skin pebbled in reaction to his touch. A streak of dirt rubbed off in the trail he made. When he reached her shoulders, the end of her curls splayed across her back, he twisted his fingers into them.

"You're not your mom. And I'm not my brother."

She felt the weight of his hands leaving her as he fiddled through his pockets.

"Where were you yesterday?" she asked absently, watching as he dug further into his pockets, his lip held between his teeth. "I looked all over for you."

His hand emerged, opening to present her with the treasure he stored there.

"Got lost," he said, pushing his hand further towards her. "Stars weren't in the right place, I couldn't find my way back."

Carol reached down, picking up one of the studs gingerly. She twirled it in front of her, the bright starry sky blending around the glimmering stone.

"They're yours," he urged her, pulling her wrist down with a touch of his finger and passing the second earring into her palm. She stared into his eyes, and the world seemed to click together like a super-focused telescope showing her exactly what she needed to be looking at. Clutching the earrings to her chest in a tight grip, Carol leaned against him, the smell of smoke and gasoline filling her. She raised up to her tiptoes, one hand gently gripping at the nape of his neck as she pressed her lips to his.

They were chapped but gentle, fitting against hers in a rush of need that he reigned in. Both of his hands cradled her head, pulling her as close to him as physically possible. Their breath mixed together, whispering to each other every last emotion that they didn't have the words to say. Pulling apart for a few silent seconds, they brought their lips back together in a series of small, gentle kisses; each one testing the theory that kissing was their favorite way to touch.

"I really like you," she said once her feet found themselves flat against the ground. Hastily and with nervous, clumsy fingers Carol poked the earrings into her ears.

His hands were still around her neck as a grin that he didn't even try to fight broke across his face, "I really like you, too."

"How do they look?" she asked, pulling her hair back from her ears so he could get a good look.

"Like I've finally found my way to something important," he brushed his finger against one of the studs. Her hand found his, and she held it against her cheek, the warmth of his skin igniting every part of her.

As she leaned forward to kiss him again, the door of the school banged open. They both jumped, startled by the interruption.

"There you are!" Rick shouted, leaning over Michonne as she held the door open.

Smirking at the couple, Michonne waved her arm, gesturing back into the building as she called out to them. "Come on, you guys are going to miss the whole thing! You have plenty of time to make out later."

Music filled their ears, and with hands held tight they followed the other couple through the doors. The rest of the dance was filled with uninterrupted joy. Carol and Michonne danced together in a way that mostly included jumping up and down and shout singing lyrics to each other. Daryl even swayed a little bit and it could be considered dancing in the loosest definition of the word. The disposable camera that Carol's father had given her got passed around. Snapshots of Carol and Michonne giggling at each other, Rick dipping Michonne during a slower song, and Daryl holding up the middle finger when Rick tried to get a picture all found their way onto the roll.

For most of the night they sat at the corner table, hands loosely fit together as fingers explored the skin and muscles of arms and shoulders. Carol could feel the pairs of eyes watching them, and she was sure that more than a few of them half-whispered their shock until it zoomed around the room that Carol Peletier was with that angry boy with the junkie brother. Or maybe they were more surprised about Daryl Dixon holding hands with that quiet girl from a broken home, but none of it mattered. Maybe people looked at them and thought they knew something about the type of people they should be, but maybe, Carol realized, it was about finding people that looked at them and saw what was really there that mattered.

Somehow the camera ran rampant around the gymnasium, and when Carol eventually developed the roll she would have a laughing fit over a picture of Milton Mamet turning bright red while Andrea kissed his cheek, one of Ms. Espinoza gorging on cheese cubes, and another of Shane twirling Lori around. Someone had even taken one of Carol and Daryl at the corner table, leaning into each other as Daryl told some story and Carol smiled at him so endearingly that no one could ever look at the photo and doubt that it was the beginning of something important.


	16. Epilogue

_I really meant to upload this like so many times this week but between being sick and then all this glorious comic con madness I kinda kept getting distracted..anywayy here's the epilogue and that now concludes this little story. I have to thank you guys SO SO much for reading and enjoying this fic, it's been a blast sharing it with you. You're all invited to my house for a big 80's movie marathon sleepover :D_

_And, of course, a **big special shoutout to sweettooth7** for letting me drive her nuts with all my last minute changes and neediness. Love you pooks 3_

_Oh and one last thing, this may not be the very last time we see this little universe. Not making any promises but I have a few small ideas for a kind of companion mini series of one shots. Probably won't get to them for awhile because my hands are itching to write something very very different from this fic, but, just saying, be on the lookout :)_

**_Thanks again lovelies for reading xx_**

* * *

_One year later…_

The sun was low in the sky, the chill of the coming night prickling through him as Daryl waited on the stoop to Carol's house. He squinted into the sunset, hand help up to shield his eyes as the familiar screeching sound drew closer. Standing, he kept enough of his composure to meet Rick's car at the sidewalk. Carol, however, had no qualms about containing her excitement, almost tripping out of the passenger side as she threw the door of the old jalopy open. Jumping into his arms, throwing her own tight around his neck, she squeezed with all her might.

"I missed you," he breathed into her neck, his face nuzzling against the collar of her denim jacket. When they released each other, Daryl leaned into the passenger window to greet Rick, keeping one arm wound tight around Carol's waist.

"How was the trip?" he asked.

"You really should have come. If you were there, maybe I wouldn't have wanted to stab myself in the eyes when the girls decided to take four hours in each museum. Do you know how many museums there are in D.C.?"

Daryl chuckled, not needing to look back to know that Carol was rolling her eyes. "Car held up okay?"

"Yeah, it was good. Thanks for tuning it up before we left."

"Had to. You had precious cargo," he grinned, glancing to Carol, her lips pursed in that teasing smirk that he loved more than anything.

Rick laughed, "Alright. I'll let you two catch up. You still on to hang out with me and Shane tomorrow?"

Daryl nodded, and they watched as Rick drove off, his car wheezing out a shuddering cough as it turned the corner. He really needed a new one. Pulling his full attention to her, Daryl brought his other arm around Carol's waist, tugging her closer to him. Her fingers ran up the length of his leather vest, resting at the top.

"So, D.C. was good? Michonne likes school and all?"

"She does," Carol smiled, leaning up to kiss him softly.

"You think you're going to look at schools up there, or is Georgia State still the one for you?" he mumbled against her lips, not quite letting her move away before he could kiss her a few more times.

Carol tilted her head to the side, pretending to think before she shook her head, "I like it better down here where we have the sunniest days and the starriest nights."

"Sure do," he smiled, thumbing one of the tiny studs that hadn't left her ears since he had given them back to her, knowing that that's where their love lived.

"Got you something!" she said suddenly, twisting in his arms to dig something out of her bag. She handed him the familiar brown packaging.

"You know they still have M&amp;M's here right?" he said, ripping it open with his teeth.

Carol nodded, bouncing up on her toes, "But _those_ M&amp;M's are from the Air and Space Museum!" She opened her mouth wide so he could plop in the candies that he had poured out for her, before swallowing up his own handful.

Between the chocolate, she mumbled, "That's not what I really got you." She pulled out a small brown paper bag from her knapsack, exchanging it for the M&amp;M's that she continued to chew while he opened it. He pulled out a slender black telescope, big enough to fit in the palm of his hands.

"It even comes with a sun filter," she explained, "This way you can look at the sun and the stars and anything you want. It's not that powerful but when we go down to the quarry I bet we'll see some neat things!"

Daryl held it up to the sky, peering up towards the sunset, turning in a complete circle until he came to land on the shimmering blue of Carol's eyes.

"You're supposed to look up there!" she moved the telescope up but Daryl brought it right back down.

"Why? I'm already looking at the prettiest thing in the universe," he brought the telescope away from his eyes, his grin growing snarkier as she blushed and swatted at him. She grabbed a hold of his forearm, pulling him in to her just as the sun slipped beneath the horizon, leaving them to discover their own constellation full of long kisses and soft touches.


End file.
